Friday, December 28, 2012

Queer Anytimes.

Somedays
I sit on the couch
thinking over the suns and moon
we have spent seen together

When
somethings were never told
I ended up scribbling them here

Like
crafting an art work
a pure form of artistry
I had ever brushed on

And
plan our times of fantasy
where the angels would whisper in my ear
that you shall be loved

Now or otherwise.
To love you pristine.
despite the hostility 'they' had for you
and the word of four letters
which until now didn't exist.

© Latika Sareen

Monday, December 24, 2012

'Left' India . . . 'Accepted' US

   It has been nearly five years since I 'left' India. That might seem like a direct taunt to some, or a mysterious assertion. From my side, it came out as a remark of despair. Born and brought up in India for 14 years, a decision to fly to US was all a fresh start to life. It wasn't ever mentioned before that we would have to head up there for some good years. Apparently, five years, and I haven't had a tour of the country (India) which once was a part of my basic life. I had come to US in 2007 around winter season in January. It was one of those coldest nights here, when my family was unknown about the weather reports. It turned out to be such stormy nights since our arrival from another world, miles apart that it took us long to get used to US 'extreme changes'.

It was never a good beginning to our approach to US. As a family, all support and heed was there, yet there was a mixture of ambivalent sentiments. Neither my mind, nor my heart was giving in for an utter 'yes'. The two living things (heart & mind, according to me) differed. It was an aura of uncertainty. Fluctuation and indecisiveness.

With the time and workload, it has been only five years here. Time elapsed. Real Quick. People out there say numbers don't really count. But is it the numbers which lack power of convincing or is it two opposed minds? Five years and I have seen enough of NY's sides of minds which convinced me that people do mind their own business here. Being out there with over hundreds of new faces, befriending with them is a rigid task, yet some go through it. It seems like a life process at once and for all. A new flexible kind of a business which requires guts to confer with new faces of human figures. Unfortunately, people residing here for some reason have a deluding image that of a 'reserved' individual. Which holds no grounds in rectified form.

So, getting out of the business mode, I would like to say something on another note. I have had insight of the world growing up here. It ultimately turned out to be a brand new curtain raiser. Doesn't it only enlighten you with the worldly knowledge, but also the life lessons which become essential to enroll in after a span of time.
It's all about one's exposure. The wisdom and living by one's wits. Rest is ash as they say. Mere ash to talk about.

Oh oh, the essential topic to confer over. INDIAN LIFE ! Everything above was considered in a chronological order. Other than all the routine life in 'Famous America', it is now to turn up to the different mindsets. I personally term myself as an Indian soul. Many would debate over the Indian mentality, how shrewd it is or how corrupted people are. Blah Blah. The controversial issues like that never come to a halt.  It is not that living in India would make a person a pure form of river Ganga. Certainly not in any case. Living anywhere with your culture in you and staying connected with your roots is what hold heights. Not that of comparing countries to countries and shortlisting accordingly.

In these five years, I have not failed to remember the accord and intimacy amongst my family members and companions. Despite the jolly festivities here, it is quite obvious for me to reminisce about my time back then in India. Yet I miss my 'Diwalis' and 'Holis' spent there.There is this vibrant charm in spending your days there in the companies of real beauty. The robust souls you have an encounter with in the form of strangers and outsiders. The times of sitting down with legs folded for pujas (spiritual ceremonies). Here, we barely even attend it because of hustling schedules. Marriage events; decking up; chats over people . . . . OH!! What a boosting spirit that used to be. Accounts of sundry affairs. . scattered in minds, here and there.

The times of hanging out with friends throughout the day and not getting back to homeworks. How uncanny and failure of a student does that sound? Well, now if I pen over it, I have no time to be free and actually sit down to munch on popcorns. Time flies! no joke, it does! How at once I notice being in India was free of a work, and now suddenly everything has been reversed. All the family gatherings vanish like it happened yesterday and I arrived here a while ago.. ...
Nothing remains the same, except for getting used to the everyday life of entering 20's.

For now, its all about WORK! COLLEGE! FAMILY (Less likely) and NO MORE ME..
Its America folks, no rest is the key. . . But I am glad to be a part of this community, to be independent a lot more earlier than the actual age and be euphoric about what I have in life. Stuff.

Bonjour.  

Friday, December 14, 2012

Wilderness Personified

I crave your mouth, your hair, your jaw
Your silence and your laugh
I hunt for our memories spent together
under the cold moon
in the weather so mild.

I want to eat away the remembrance I have
of you in me
Harshleen Jammu Photography
like a vagrant looking around
in the mist for his character

I run away from your darkness
for I have swallowed much
as a wolf hankering for flesh
in the wilderness

I hunger for your sleek kiss
your hands full of savage glow
hunger for the touch of your feet
I want to consume you like cashews

and I move around
to find the depth  of your sincerity
when I see you as
voracious as a wild bear.


                                                                    © Latika Sareen
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Saturday, December 1, 2012

Judaayi

Aankhein na faer ki mohabbat ka izhaar na ho
Aankhein na faer ki mohabbat ka izhaar na ho
Khuda se puch
Teri khaatir humne
Khud ko baech diya
Duniya rangeen thi
Ki itni chaahat kaha hogi
Fir humne khud se
Tujhe maqbool kiya

Waade to unhone ne bhi bahut kiye the
Par teri wafa me unhe
Bhula diya
Dar Dar muraad rakhte the honthon pe
Ki apni shiddat se tujhe
Apna liya

Honthon pe sirf ek hi waqt
Ka izhar rehta hai
Tu na sune
Aisa ikraar rehta hai
Chahe to tu hum reh lenge bina umeed ke
Wad kar ek badle me
Tu gam ke aansu behne dega
Khushi me apni maqbool hume hone dega.

© Latika Sareen

Friday, November 23, 2012

The Feeling that lacked EMOTIONS!

I wish I was loved the same way you loved him
Unconditionally,
With no contemplation's
I wish you were there for me the time I craved for you
Like you did to him
A feeling so motherly

Perhaps I didn't deserve what he did
For I had done so wrong
By being alive yet dead inside
Like I will be left to rot
Amongst the crowd of intelligence
A feeling so uneasy

It was a sentiment of me
A part of me which
Yelled 'mother'
But you were away
As you had been, for miles now,
For sometime

Can I acknowledge you now?
Or do I speculate around in life

To be answered

If I will be loved or not . .
By a mother ?






Thursday, November 15, 2012

Obscurity

I stood in the mist
like nothing had happened
like I was stable
as if the love was intact
however
even while being apart

and I continued
to be a part of the world
so ill
as if I had never departed
in the reality of my own

I was trying,
trying to adapt myself
to the settings so variant
and I forgot the pain that existed
in the world of
irrationality,
the pain in me

And one day
I left
I bid farewell to the people
of my discern
and wrote this prose to them
from the grave I was dug in
to remind them

That I was scraped

deep down with a fresh wound

they were anonymous to.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Embrace me, Kiss me . . .

The way you clamored for silent destruction
The way you put your head down to the soul unforgiving
The time when you had sung in my ears
With a voice so appeasing
Like you touched upon my hair strands
To move them aside with a blow

You kissed my forehead gently
To make me endure the
World's ecstasy
While proposing me in a silent tone
Like you were demure
To accept the response
To the proposal
Given

And you kissed
Once again
On my lips
When I was apprehensive
While I was accepting you
In the uncanny context people had told me about
I was beginning to fathom a difference
Between you and
The Real
So far...

Sunday, October 21, 2012

The perished soul . . in love

 You defined me in poetry
with every sunrise you ever saw
with every sunset you ever closed your eyes from
with every whisper
you made
with your eyes folded
in layers of skin

You defined me in
intimacy,
devotion,
glee and pretense

You defined me in the pieces
of bare sand
with the perished
spirit, mortal in a form
with the zeal renewed
like you felt
rejuvenated

Your touch upon my
tip of the shoulders
you stroking me on the neck
with a prick full of heat
and you mutter,
"I ll savor the times
with you I spent
like you have been
dead for decades
in the soul which
contained ME.
Alive yet again with
a kiss"

Thursday, October 18, 2012

What I like in you?

What do I say?
What do I like in you?
Perhaps the way you act bashful
Or the way you make me beam
Or the way you untangle my hair
With your trembling hands.

Or perhaps the way you
Lay your gaze at me
For me to endure
While I look away
Or maybe like you
Want me to feel definite
About you being there.

Or the way you surrender yourself
To me in a form so suave
And my eyes,
Flatter
As if I never saw anyone
As enthralling as 'you'.

Or the way you greet me
With a sense of honor
And a cheer so refined
In the words you choose
To say

Or like the way your eyelashes
Float on your face
When you peek at me
Through the darkness of your palms
Like you would want to convey
The melody of your mind
Through your glare
In fragments.

What else do I say?
What else do I like in you?
When this is how I
Elucidate you
In my conception
Like a complete
Soul
Which ever struck
Me so rigid,
That I beg to melt.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

The Cancer which made her 'gone'

And she lamented on the condition of her feeble mother. On every term, she was agonizing. Grieving in pain, enduring the oppression without a hitch. She wasn't living in the past anymore. She had affirmed the fact that she would die soon. Yet there was a tangible faith with her, which kept her alive until the last moment of her seeing the mother weep. Like there was no tomorrow for them..

Like the dusk had cast a shadow upon them. In a form so intimidating. Perhaps the Cancer was it.
It was there to have her get done with the life meanings. But why devastate others' lives while taking away just one? Why ruin the hopes around one soul and be somber for the rest of their lives. Does every illness act that way?

I cant write.. She cant terminate the endings of her gone soul. It feels like one of those non-ending eclipses, which never let the light replace it.

I feel vacant for her.. The words with no emotion whatsoever.

Like she had urged the life to let her mother be with her. Since, there was nobody else. To look after the grown up being.

Just an admiring mother for a child !!

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Ab Talak

Aankhon se aankhon tak
pauche ek hi nazm

dil se rooh tak
jaise likhe hue ho khwab

janasheen ho raatein
benaqab ho din

tere honthon se na uf karein
tere behke hue lafz

tujhe khokar hi paane
ka andaaz ho alag

ki paaye fir hum
ek alag rang me

jisme jazba ho
mohabbat ka ehsaas ho
gustaakhiyaan ho aur

shabnami kapde me tu ho
lipti, ang ang me
jaise

ek hi awaz ho
"Mujhe jeena sikha do"
"Tum mujhe jeena sikha do . . . "


Here n There, Quoting me desirous!

"It was a new beginning
From behind"

"For I never called a beggar; a beggar
and a president a priest"

"I walked in the darkness absorbing you
And then
The light faded your name"

"I was once
a lover
undefined
like the one
you had imagined
soaked in love
kissed by dew
unconditionally".

"I construed your name
in poetry;
defined us in poetry
like the gush of air
full of fresh breath
and the moment worth a tear"

"I feel that we could
marry the times embraced
for a ring on the fantasies
a necklace on the delusions
and a kiss on the moon
we drew
in the name of us"

"Pinch me
like you exist
pinch me for good
like you matter
pinch me hard
like you feel it
pinch me;
pinch me like
like
a millions dead
and its you
who's alive"

"I lay upon his breast
cuddling him
as I miss the version of us
from last birth"

"A mild touch
of your bare skin
on mine
like the
mood at first
being born
AGAIN"

"And I was strolling
down the lanes
searching for a soul
a soul so beguiled
with a pair of glasses
for it was an aura felt
around the lips
of a beauty"

"Thus I liked the way he moved
for he had a message in his motions
an intimation of bliss
I inhaled when he used to
Move"

"From his toes
to his hips
his waist
his chest
his neck
his chin
his lips
his eyes
his hair
there was nothing
that I wasn't wrapped in"

"I wanted more of just the love; perhaps some more of reality".

"We want someone. Not just anyone. For a while. Or longer".

"The raw jaw
the bare chest
the sweaty head
the humid kiss
what will I never dream of him? "

"For I had learnt how to
adjust with adjustments in love by making
easy decisions"

"Be on this side
be on my side
be on me, however"

"Your laughter is my bread
your giggles, my liquid
I live on this
don't take it away"

"Lift your chin up
and perceive the madness
she has in her aches for you"

© Latika Sareen
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Friday, September 28, 2012

Story of inconsistent lanes . . . .

We met on the edge of Pangong lake in Ladakh
Across the mouth of it I found him standing
Gazing at the deep pigment of water
So blue, so green
Colors of love, yet unseen
As if rainbow had cast a shadow on it.

I looked at him
For he was a majestic sketch of god
His eyes which talked probity
And his lips which uttered inclination
To nature so authentic.

Having a wish to study him
I stepped forward
And looked straight
Through his eyes
And I breathed
Like the first time I had
When I felt
Conscious.

Then we met
In the crowd of Hanoi
Terming it as fate
We looked upon each other
And departed
To walk into the lanes of future
Grasping the air
Leaving the souls
To covet ubiquity.

Then we met
In the lanes of Germany
Where the truth was
Where he stayed
Since he was born
In the heaven
Beyond the difference.

It was a feeling so uncanny
That he ran from
Like he didn't want
Our gaze to meet
Like he feared
The arrival of 'his time'.

Then we met
On the Cambridge beach of Bermuda
The aura so exotic
Filled me with passion
To love him grave
The need to touch
The edge of his face with mine
And feel the gasp
Around us.

I flashed at him
Begging for a chance
To make me have his knowledge
To get the alphabets of his beauty
To read the synopsis of his
Image of women.

For a chance was less to thirst for
We met again,
In the city of Florence
On the bed of Leukemia
Where he whimpered
Where I prattled
Without a notice of words known
With an urge to seize the moment
The interval of time where I breathed him
Knowingly,
And he breathed a farewell
Unknowingly.

© Latika Sareen
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Friday, September 21, 2012

"Marry Me" - The Dead Proposal


To,

     Mariana,

A woman so meek
Full of elegance
Her glimpse worth a gold
Her charm more than
A soul's.

              Her breath that of 
              A mist
              Her touch
              Full of bliss.

A woman so close
So close to me
Like a touch ilusory
Cheered to see

             The kiss you kissed
             On me the other day
             Was a future hold
             Of your words and
             Caress you bestowed

Like the water on you
Felt exhilarating
Also your body
Soaked in dew,
What a savor that was
To see you shower
In moisture.

              Your voice so placid
               Like the scent of waves
               And you embrace it
               Like I do to you
               Friction hence
               Created between us two.

I find you breathless
I find you sensuous

                I owe you something
                Care to accept?
                For you will be the woman so divine
                Who gives me an aura to survive
                A proposal so sketchy
                Yet in time
                 I am constructing in the grave.

"Will you marry me
And be the woman forever
For we will last longer than any other thought
Before I die, Actually before we die,
We will make sure
I loved you enough"

                                                        - Jason
             
© Latika Sareen
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Arjun

What to call it ?
A sadistic pleasure or
The dark stages of life
Where I suffered
With no shadow of my own

For I had greed
To be called amongst Others
To be pronounced
As,
     Arjun
In the form so fair
As the juvenility of mine
Had been horrendous
For people shrieked
Me being a maniac
Where the mania was just
To be accepted as a normal
Kid.

Being able to endure the eclipse
Was a battle itself
When I was being
Discarded in the trash with
An emotion unknown
A cry so frigid

All I urged for was
A name of
'Acceptance'
Considering that I was in solitude
As a youth so
Unwanted

My soul conflicting
With Asperger's Syndrome
My body that so feeble
My desires denominated  rotten
I - raised as a soul
So dormant in nature
All by myself

Now that the world
Was a mere circus to me
The ones ahead and behind the dot
However nothing and no one held
Importance to me
Being a contrasting heart
I was a kid of substance
A change in the crowd
But what dreaded me was
The
Awful Touch behind my name
Arjun Unwanted.

Latika Sareen
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Wednesday, September 19, 2012

An escape to Yesterday

She wore the drape like
Silk
With charm and grace
On the face
Filled with mirth
Here and There.

Her eyes that spoke
Utmost composure
Her lips which construed
Sensuality
The way she adorned
Was no less than
A wine's spell

Her - wearing the vermilion
With a sense of
Desire,
To be burnt
Within the fervor
Of a woman's appeal

Married her, just for
The sake of society
Had a search
For an escape
To
The past.

As he abandoned her
The woman so vivacious
And she had
Kept him aside
To be filled with his
Scent of passion
And obliterate
The world
Of hers so Present

For she adorned herself
For the past
She had
Moreover,
Assembling no
Reflections of today

The love that died
On her yesterday
Was the one
Culpable for her
Mere Madness

In as much she
Was a mad character
Full of joy
Yet so hollow

Since she had no
Present
Seeing that she had decked up
For the past

Wearing the necklace around her
Neck
Like that with pleasure
Sliding her feet in the
Inches of heel
She felt so smooth with

Wearing the bangles as if
It was the last night of hers
In a room full of people
For she was contemplating
A new Life
With her gone days
Filled with Mirth
Here and There
She desired.

© Latika Sareen
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The Youth he Missed

So, he looked in the mirror
Rendering to his presence
To be alive
To feel it
The atmosphere he was in

And so he realized
That it was,
The youth of him
He had lost
A while ago.

The glow on his face
As if had gone
With his youth
Full of black
Full of white
As if the color of him
Was meant to be
Faded.

The child who was his
Beneath the sky
Left him in solitude
With a name
Defined 'Father'

The feeling so anguish
Full of tears and clamor
For he had no fathomed life
Except his son
For he had too gone far
With a single soul
Left behind
Behind. Very. Indeed

Just a glimpse
He begged for
Like that of light
In the wake of obscurity
For he had seen his
Youth in him

A youth he missed
Of no love
Like that of
A father to a child
Yet he struggled for
His bits and baubles
Rendering to his presence
To feel it
The atmosphere he was in.

© Latika Sareen
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Sunday, September 16, 2012

Daud abhi baaki hai . .

Zindagi ajeeb hai
Maut ke kareeb hai
Waqt ka kuch andaaza nahi
Paya aisa naseeb hai
Rukti rukti chal padti hai
Maddham si chandni ye
Suraj ke aage bhilakti hai
Hawa ka jhonka aaye toh
Fir raftaar badti hai iski
Ruksaar aage paaye toh
Girna nahi, girke sambhalna hai
Aisa hai ye dawa iska
Chahe jitne teer faenko
Rukawat hai iska kissa
Jo jitna ruk jaaye
Utna hi khud ko kamzor paaye
Waqt ke hawale kuch bhi na aaye
Aashayein woh aisi lagaye
Ki behakta hua khud ki nazro me
Woh uth jaaye
Aur duniya ko ye kehke dikhlaaye
Ki chalta ja tu, aage bad, daud abhi baaki hai
Chalta ja tu, aage bad, daud abhi baaki hai
Sapne dekhe hai jo tune
Unka ehsaas abhi baaki hai
Dekh apne aas paas
Un janwaro ko khud pe odein
Rukte nahi woh duniya me kahi
Unki manzil kahi baaki hai
Tu bhi waisa ban ki karein arzoo puri apni
Tu bhi waisa ban ki karein arzoo puri apni
Jab tak dawa karta rahein
Tab tak manzil ka rukh kahi aur baaki hai
Daud abhi baaki hai..
Teri daud abhi baaki hai . . .

© Latika Sareen
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Friday, September 7, 2012

The Gaze beyond 'Beggars'

  It was a habit of passing by that lane every month. . rather every week. It was the 'Sai Baba' temple I used to pay visit to every Thursday in Delhi, Rohini. To attain peace, where else would one be? I recall that the place used to be jammed with diversities of individuals. Punjabi; Marathi; Hindu; Sikh; Tamil . .People across the country used to be there to get a glimpse of Baba. To be in his presence and feel the pure. There was something about that air, the atmosphere I used to get involved in. The melody of drums and barrels, which used to fill our ears with soft harmonies and tunes.

Every week after getting prasad from the priest, I used to walk out towards the exit gate. He used to sit there corresponding to my gaze. Everyweek! Everyday! It was the same boy I tend to look for. He was about 14 years of age, full of energy and fire. There were hundreds of beggars in the lane. In the very same lane, beggars . . as we term them, from different scenarios and from distinct backgrounds were there. Looking at that lane from a distance felt like a ton of people sitting in opposite directions yearning for food. Only food, perhaps just a piece of bread they could feed on. Nothing pleased them, than just an edible material and they would be merrily sitting down, feeding each other from that slight type of food.

Amongst them was that boy. He was about 5'5 in height; short hair; off-white shirt; dark colored skin. He seemed to have the joys of life. The sort of vivacity he had on his face seemed of no cost. He was sitting amongst his family members on the sides of the road outside of the temple. The boy who must have had better days in his life, was now in a sad plight. But he never rendered to the sadness. He was a shining face of positive attitude. Only 14! Yet so intellectual and bright, that I had begun to feel his unambiguous shades. He used to look at me, smile, saying, "Didi, khana de do" (Sister, please give me food) and I used to pour whatever I had cooked in his vessel. It wasn't a ritual to be done with temple ceremonies and provide beggars with food. But it was a hearty emotion which people served them food with. It was more like serving out of no expectations, to fulfill the urge to provide those poor ones with some edible material. For me it in turn was a savor moment. At times, it used to serve as the one and only moment where I could connect them with me or vice versa.

I used to gaze at those 'eyes' of them for prolong seconds. For it used to utter words on the path of silence. Like we individuals who live a normal life carry plenty of descriptions from here and there. In the same way, those beggars' faces' were formed of various water drops, asserting more than what they could admit. As I used to serve them food, their faces were enriched with gaiety. That elation of someone being humble to them was a non-existing thought. For they had learnt to bear humiliation and nonchalant belief of people living on their adverse side of life. Even by being wrapped in two pieces of cloth, those women seemed to be the real beauty faces; without any brush ups and makeup theories. Those visions of them which longed to be us, but they knew the understandings of fate.


I used to gaze at those faces' which were ready at any flash to bless the givers as if they were meant to be divine and a grace for others. I used to gaze at their skin, which was young as ever, than ours which was sulky with the terms of life. Their visions, which were blissful even in the intense phases. And ours how we complain even if our roof starts leaking out of nowhere. Their life which was in the smiles of their kids, and ours which doesn't go beyond texting and smartphones. Their hands which were only divine in some form of blessings. And us, who raise hands not just to assasin, however for corruption and wars. Their heart which is a major giver, for they have nothing to offer yet they smile. And us, being on such lofty heights in life yet can't do charity.
It is like a flash passed by, comparing none and comparing all in one go. Keeping such sets in mind, I wondered, "How could I call them beggars, when they are a lot richer by heart than normal us".

Since then, I have longed to share a moment with them personally. Their stories which are a lot more exquisite than mine. I am hungry for those smiles, for I have not laughed like them since decades. Not because I wish to, but because I want to. They were defined as crazy beggars, yet the only delighted species I would ever know.

 "For only the mad people could be the happiest, and I wish I was in that genre, where I was mad and laughed, to be content. For I laugh hollow now, full of sentiments yet so vacant".

- Latikaa 

© Latika Sareen
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Thursday, September 6, 2012

All I wish, to Write !

  I wish to write in a scattered form
Lines which never bound to explain
The intensity of the words
I put down on the piece of paper
I own

I wish to write in an abundant form
Far to relocate the soul
Which was once alive
To the world
She knew she liked

I wish to write in a yearning form
To have plenty around me
To be gratified with
For I know, I lack
The power to tackle

I wish to write in a form of no name
Ambiguous all over
With no startings,
With no endings,
Just the way flowing down a slope
So uncertain

I wish to write,
Is all I wish
Be it scattered or abundant
Of name or be it yearning
I am intimidated by hue of others
Which beguiled me to points

Now, I say
I hold a pen
Help me discover something untold
Something revived
For I will only be coaxed by you
Abandon the world,
That was left behind
Far.

© Latika Sareen
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Sunday, September 2, 2012

A New Love Story . . Begins :)

     Today I was sitting down all by myself by the river wanting to experience a change, novelty. . . a spark or some tickle which hasn't been in me since decades. Nothing happened. Nothing has happened until now. That is what the grief is for. It doesn't feel less than a failure who isn't seeking for anything wild and happening. Sitting all composed around the shores of the river, I began writing, and for the first time it felt like it would hit me hard . . 
Just like the water around the shore. . with no noise, but a charm to fill the air around it with a fragrance . . a fragrance of no cost .. 

I long to keep you in me
with full of scent around
I wish to make love to you
I wish to hold you down

There is more to desire
Than to just speculate
There is nothing to lose hope for
For there are many to come
And for one you to melt

Before I come to you
I would have to ponder back
For there would be no conflicts
For there would be no physical contacts

It seemed like an upland
Full of ups and downs
One life, which make people play solemn
And many more which make us play clowns

Love me merely for who I am
For I beget something of that sought
Don't put the conditions before you owe me
Your scent of little thoughts

The journey is way too prolonged
Than what we had contemplated
I felt the drop of the rain
Which struck me austere
Growing my soul
With me rejuvenated.

Will we end it there?
With no toughness in us?
Or will we get it closer
With your lips on mine
Lamenting,
Sensing,
Like there would none other than us..

And in that color, it ended. . I ceased the nib of the pen to scribble more than just musings. Took a deep breath, devoting my sight to nature's honesty for playing straight and bestowing my senses to the atmosphere I was in . . I whispered in the ears of the light breeze  

"Dusk and dawn a part of me,
Yet thou groan
For you shall
Remain LOVED"

And I smiled , for the smile was not just on the face ... it was from within of conquering more than just castles in the air .. 

© Latika Sareen
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Saturday, September 1, 2012

A Legendary Melody




Evergreen and Stupendous superstar of all times of Bollywood - Mr. Raj Kapoor ji

One of his super duper hit tunes of life . . Jeena yahan, marna yahan, iske siwa, jana kahan :)

The melody which makes you learn a lot than just being educated via books and advanced technology.

A song which has lived by and which would remain a legendary tune in all Indian hearts ..

Whether they concur or they dont :)


Friday, August 31, 2012

Apathy with time . .

   We had started in a union,
Vowing not to abandon the
'Best friends' tag tagged over us
                                                Just over time

           We chose to be distinct

                                               In different paths of life

            In the ways where people can't discern us

                                               Or anything related to us
We had a notion to move apart
And feel the pain from within...

Whatever it was,
It took me away from them
When they were considered as nerds & geeks
The must students in every club and class
Had reached the lofty heights they had fathomed
All because of their efforts !

And me?
Despite the company of

                                     'geeks'

I was on the ground
Looking for an escape

                                   Freedom

Which was bleak in vision

Trying to satisfy my thirsty soul
A soul which wanted to 'write'..

I was way below
Them,
The level they had attained..
The standards of life, they had discovered

There was jealousy,
There was sweat down the drain
I envied some
But was content in some way
Of living on a gratifying
                                 
                                    Breath

The laughter which I had claimed
And they couldn't
Because they were busy investigating their cases in
Multinational companies

And I was writing a prose
By the lake,
Which I didn't finish
Even by now.

© Latika Sareen
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Monday, August 20, 2012

The Interpretation of a capture !!

     I was there. I was present there physically when Maurya was going through that pain. Pain of loss of her child. The social fear she had to mourn in front of. The personal shame of letting her child depart from her.

Arjun Kamath Photography 
People tried convincing her that it was fated, yet she mourned. 

Agonized outbound. 

Maurya had never felt the real emotion of a 'normal woman'. She had an urge to feel real. She failed. Several units.

No matter what times she tried to be gratified, she couldn't keep up with it. She was psychotic. The true brain disorders had never let her fight the world.

So, she ended up fighting with her own self. Fussing and crying for nothing. Feeling loved when no one was actually there. Romancing in the oceans of tears. She had her own definitions to life. Rather, she was made to reckon in a way, that normality was a lot far than her actual character.


  She had gone through the deepest scars in life. This one wasn't astounding. Yet it was a hit on the heart. 
A hit so loud, that it burned rest of her desires

Her wishes of getting her little one married. Her wants of another family was faded. As a mother's wish, Maurya had the feel to adorn her child, to see her as a 'Normal bride'. Her aspirations to envision that were bleak. Her demands of a new set of 'life' were pale. 

"I have had enough", she muttered. 

It was time for Maurya to be back in senses after the DEATH. 

And that is when she had lost control over herself. 

Arjun Kamath Photography
Reminding herself that, "I am okay". When the situations were a lot adverse. 

Looking back at what Maurya have had, she had no relations to piece down her stories with. 
She was mourning it all in solitude. 

She wasn't poised. She had no charge over her mind. 
i.e when Maurya was termed as a 
'PSYCHOTIC BRIDE'.

A bride who had lost her husband on the day of her marriage. And was agonizing in the pain of her lost child who was from another male. 

However, after the death of Maurya's child, she lived in a cage herself. A hospital where she was being examined. Maurya still had the 'normal bride' notions in her head. To her, her child wasn't absent. 

It was a conflicting phase for her where she should have admitted the reality's attack, while she was being deluded into hallucinations, being forced to believe into something she wasn't hearting in. Maurya felt unreal. 
The parts of her body reacted in a distinct way than that of an average human figure. She was manipulated in a certain way that she was strained to fascinate herself after every death that took place in her family. 

It was a deliberate action by psychotic orders over which she had no say. She was constantly fighting it with a camouflage over her, but under extreme plights, romance was her way of sighing over dead bodies. She was forced. She was unrealistically in the boundaries of phantasms.

She was willing to take a standard stand, but the psychotic mind disorder had taken her in its path. She was fantasized. She was being daydreamed deliberately. 


Arjun Kamath Photography
After days of engaging in mental encounters, Maurya had passed away grieving and lamenting over the deaths' in her clan

Her last words mumbled were, "I thought I was okay, take me home, I want to photo myself. I feel lonely. Take me home".

© Latika Sareen
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Saturday, August 18, 2012

SET BACKS OF LIFE !

A stroll down the lane,
Took me somewhere I wasn't looking forward to
Showed me something, I wasn't expecting
A ride what it was,
Full of joys and phantasms.

No one had trusted me enough
With the dreams sown
I was the sole one
Full of enthusiasm and faith
Which was the onset for future encounters.

I was growing up
But limits were not in my world
It was a direct contact with the satisfaction
Nailing it all,
Leaving no mark to cry upon.

And then one day,
Something had happened
So profound and loud,
For he had passed away
At the wrong phase of life.

I was on my way to
Acknowledge the new
When I had to step back,
To support the remaining clan
For there was nobody else
To confront the solemn times.

He whom I had called dad
Was no more a part of me
For he had gone
Because of my decision
A feeling of guilt was upcoming. 

It was an emotion
Worth a hundred tears
Full of oceans that were once blue
Full of shadows, that were once colored.

The fantasy was the end of me
Being by the family left
Sacrificing myself to develop others
Became a key of such times.

What was next?
I hadn't given up yet,
Thoughts to rich my family up
In the serious phases
Was a condition,
And then was
A route to my Goal.

And there was a day,
When I wasn't stopped by any
I flew to a place of no name,
Of no deeds.

I came to create a ruckus in the world
To be up for self satisfaction
To be me,
I guess, revealing all
Which was in me, I couldn't express.

I told them,
Let me be,
Don't pass away,
I will follow your dreams too,
In one life, give me mine,
In another, I ll bestow you all.

© Latika Sareen
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Saturday, August 4, 2012

Silent Walks !!

     Walking in the dead space at 12 am is a beauty in itself. Discovering the inner momentum which drifts me away from the routine life. The depth of space; the unmeasurable intensity the silence speaks with, today, for the first time seemed heavenly.


    For one moment, I was under control of the space around me. It felt like it had enveloped me so well that volumes were spoken. Volumes in term of affection; zeal and fervor. The man's absence was felt in no limits, yet I consoled myself to an extent believing in good.

   Walking in the dead night, where nobody could see you and you be opaque, is a mystery all in all. The gush I had while taking rolls was one goddamn instant, when I had surrendered myself to the clouds above me.

   The caress, the embrace was felt. I had defined 'mirth' in a way that smiles became involuntary loading the glance of him being fathomed. A slight brush upon the cheek, to feel the impeccable sentiment had turned into an ambrosial inclination.

   The one he have had discovered long time ago.

   I tend to walk late on things.

   Hence, making up for all that have been misconstrued. In bits and pieces.

© Latika Sareen
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Friday, August 3, 2012

Lucky enough to realise

  "Sometime we are lucky enough that we tend to avert such from our minds or presence.."

You bring that luck baby, and you being a vital part of my life makes a difference. You remain gorgeous in my eyes, even if you are imperfect in someone else's..

A smile and mirth is all we need. And you know we are good to go.

No, now I feel like an everlasting beauty because every morning and night of my life would commence with your breathings. Death remaining a shadow left.

You holding me as a foundation :)

© Latika Sareen
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Monday, July 30, 2012

Love to his Bliss . .

It was a hazy touch
Filled with fascination of her
Syd & Vidya.. The souls in unconditional love.. 
It felt like a fantasy
Full of desires
Full of enduring passion they craved for.

He came close
Touched the shoulder tip of hers
With his trembling fingers
Investing her trust in him
Contracting her muscles 
Leaving her to melt down to purity.

He loved her beyond infinity
The love which he had pledged on not to fade
And the smile he was hungry for

It was his raw love which took her from herself
The gentle stroke he was used to touch her with
The love-making tales they talked about
The rains which not just got them wet
But had softened their bodies.

It wasn't a teenage love
Yet it lasted for the longest
With the liaison made 
Between the two souls

The moist breaths
The wet kisses
Had gotten them closer

To a blissful future they had envisioned
In the love of depth
Far from estimation
Close to a flame which uttered "Togetherness"

© Latika Sareen
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Friday, July 20, 2012

An everlasting desire ~



An everlasting earnest desire to perform on this song with a partner.. 


I want to lose myself in the essence of this song.. thats how it makes me feel.. full of LOVE AND INTENSITY! 

Lyrics -


(pyaar ki yeh kahaani suno
ek ladka tha, ek ladki thi
hoti kya hai jawaani suno
ek ladka tha, ek ladki thi
woh bhi ek daur tha
waqt hi aur tha
jab woh the ajnabi
dono tanaha se the
par woh kehte kise
baat jo dil mein thi) - 2
pyaar ki yeh kahaani suno
ek ladka tha, ek ladki thi
hoti kya hai jawaani suno
ek ladka tha, ek ladki thi

gumsum gumsum rehte the dono
phir bhi dil mein kehte the dono
koyi sapana hum bhi to paayein
ek din tute ghum ke woh ghere
jhilmil jhilmil aaye savere
mausam badala jaagi fizaayein
woh mil gaye, woh khil gaye
aur pyaar ho hi gaya
jo maanga tha, woh paaya to
hosh kho hi gaya
pyaar ki yeh kahaani suno
ek ladka tha, ek ladki thi
hoti kya hai jawaani suno
ek ladka tha, ek ladki thi

haule haule abb woh deewaane
gun gun gaaye dil ke taraane
sun sun jhumein saari hawaanyein
dhadkan dhadkan hai behaki behaki
mann mann, mann mann, chaahat hai mehaki
sapane apane jaadu jagaayein
phir dekhoge, toh jaanoge
kya hai nasha pyaar ka
yahi sochoge, yahi chaahoge
sun rahi ye sada
pyaar ki yeh kahaani suno
ek ladka tha, ek ladki thi
hoti kya hai jawaani suno
ek ladka tha, ek ladki thi
woh bhi ek daur tha
waqt hi aur tha
jab woh the ajnabi
dono tanaha se the
par woh kehte kise
baat jo dil mein thi

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Talash . .

Manzilon ki dagar me hum rukh ko chupate chalein
Aaine to bahut dikhe, fir bhi rukhsaar peylnate chalein

Thi humari koshish ki hum na rahe gumnaam
Thi humari koshish ki hum na rahe gumnaam

Khuda ki aad me, dil se dil milate chalein.

Hui kuch mulaqaatein bhi
Ki wallah keh sehlate chalein

Us fakir ki talash thi humein
Us fakir ki talash thi humein

Jo parde se roo ki saugandh
Intishaate (bikharte) chalein.. 


© Latika Sareen
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Saturday, July 14, 2012

The Ambivalent Haze !

The inhumane behavior
Far from innocence
The fighting sole spirit
In the dark end
The blight of the time
Full of dark shadows
The life from behind
Seemed like a freezing bit.

The gathering of her presence
Lost in the dark
Full of filthy capturing
Inverted the lonely being
With the feel of no emotions
She carrying the heaviness of guilt
Weeping over her plight
Life seemed no right
In the ambiance of ambivalent haze. 

There was no breath
Just to live again
The new glorious moon
Yet to see again
Diffusing the enigma
Was the sole purpose
Of the foul characters
Scratching the woman from within.

It seemed no more than a reality
Full of bemoan and wails
A new commence which faded
The blooming which rose as smoke
Identifying the detrimental climate
Rising of flames
Deep in red
Expecting a sunshine to begin ! 

© Latika Sareen
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Friday, July 13, 2012

Those rare 'loving' ones..

   I personally believe in just one quote, "When there are millions to appreciate you around the globe, there always be that one you are dear to who would block you out and not comprehend the given."

- Latikaa

   Isn't life so bizarre to be understood? The tall claims our dear ones make to keep us happy turn out to be the rejections when thorns are confronted.  Isn't that the time when smoke rises and things seem blurry as everything? We lose control over our beloved ones, and they being the critical matter doesn't get deepen anymore. Infact the hues fade and so does the flame. We learn to adapt ourselves to the new ones and keep the old ones in a recollection to the new..

   But all we do is hold our heads high and face it all..because 'we' once loved them with the same intensity of rage we have for them today..

Shayad isi ka naam zindagi hai...? (Maybe this is what we term as 'Life')

© Latika Sareen
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Thursday, July 12, 2012

Everytime .. Everytime I try

I wish to lose myself within you.. =(
    Everytime you treat me like this, my belief off 'marriage' gets bold,
    Everytime you say before giving a thought, things aim to get cold,
    Everytime I say something, I tend to be wrong,
    Everytime I try to speak; you make me believe that your world is not the place where I belong,
 
Everytime I try to bridge the gaps; it widens,
Everytime I try to thwart any conflicts; I fail,
Everytime I try; I fail to push it that hard,
Everytime you say I am wrong, it feels like a soul in me is marred.

   Everytime we give it a new meaning, the life falls apart,
   Everytime you think it would be fine, it declines a start,
   Everytime the 'thing' happens, we are bound to lose,
   Gaining nothing but failure, our life with contrary views.

Everytime I try to settle the lost thoughts,
You fail to concede on one common slot,
Everytime I start, you want to end,
Everytime you are not there, I do need a friend.

   Even this time, there was a narrow angle to your vision,
   Claiming to be perfect, full of flaws in between,
   Everytime I think to set apart from you, I hold it back saying something,
   "That I want a life with you, enough of you to term it 'bluffing'".

Everytime we indulge into a fight, you never comprehend what goes on,
The love between us then vanish, the only thing you need is to have won.
Everytime you give me that attitude of not holding onto it anymore, I fail to realize,
If you want a saga as badly as me,
Then trivial matters is just a start, we have a life which flourish and dries.
    
© Latika Sareen
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Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - GREENDAY !!




The pure wordings I utter when somber.. The place I walk on - Lonely road.. when somber ..



Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Once I was a Human

      In the back days, I was a human,
With full of life and zeal which it takes.
In an environment full of other creatures,
A place, where humanity never took place. 

It was odd to be the single amongst many,
Yet I contained a nerve to speak.
I was falling from the zenith to nullity,
For me humanity was the highest peak.

Small in rooms, colossal the hearts,
Life seemed different.
Affected by none, still the same,
Fomenting the emotions yet acclaimed.

It was a change from within,
Full of scars and emptiness.
Nothing had changed, just the outlook,
The hearts which got so carious. 

I was a human, back then with sentiments,
Full of life and ecstasy in power.
I didn't know the sides of the coin,
Head and Tails which empowered. 

It was a living with foreign creatures,
Tender ages had recovered.
Weeping for some sense to be a human,
Yearning for real affection. 

And then it ended, what a dream it was,
Full of fear and agitation.
Life seemed so abnormal being another creature,
Facing the challenges,
A human would only discover ! 

© Latika Sareen
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Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Win is my Time . . .

They came, not to bother me, but to let me down,
I claimed that I am an artist
Nothing would break me down. 

The fear never went, the apprehension grew,
Thinking what if somebody cuts me down?
But I had the power of self confidence uttering 
That, nothing would let me down. 

The society, the people, which never cared,
Now show the bogus side of them by caring,
The expectations from them were never there,
Then how did the sides modify?

I see how the community likes picking up on people,
Aware of their own dilemmas, 
Yet putting them unseen. 
A hard tearing others apart, full with blood,
Avoiding the praises, raising the taunts obscene. 

They stepped back, moving forward again,
Hearing my words of anger,
Thrashing upon my audacity,
Love of theirs which utterly surrendered. 

I babbled, that win is my time,
Nobody could harm it that easy,
They delivered out of courage,

"Go get the wisdom, without the disparage,
You are an endless soul, we were only here to discourage"


© Latika Sareen
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Monday, July 2, 2012

Somberness

   I don't know if it is right or wrong to fight with life, but under any circumstance, he won't lose this battle. He might lose to me, but this war of proving himself, nope ! He wouldn't let it go that easy. His efforts should be paid at any cost. Him trying to be 'the one' matters to me than to no one else.

   How awful it is that at times, we see our loved ones go through the toughest plights, yet we feel feeble. We want to get close enough to them to make them feel secure, but we fail ! We fail to put life into easy domains.

   At times, I wonder, what would have happened if nothing would have encouraged me to move forward without this quote: "Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all." - DALE CARNEGIE


Lifes hard.. I hope that his gratifications are justified.. Because if sorrow strikes him this hard, I ll die weeping.. 

© Latika Sareen
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Friday, June 22, 2012

The Sacrifice of love !!

  It was said : "When she danced, she was in trance, nothing could stop her, she was filled with romance".

  Dance was what she had begun with. Her flavor of life - Dance. Dance was what she had started to live with. Her mantra to success - Dance. It's uncanny how these five letters could be so cogent. To some souls, dance means the finest art and to some its void. I believe its all about perceptions, passion and depth. Her depth of ecstasy lied in the ghungroos and those waist belts. She had an urge to absorb various information's of dance, that positive aura of doing something from all the heart. However, attaining the vision wasn't that facile.

  Belonging to a Muslim household, Asfa was never consented to learn Classical Indian Dance. Her ami (mother) and abu (father) were against the Hindu localities. Their disbelief in the Hindu religion was firm. Asfa, had lived in Pakistan for more than a decade. So, she was informed of those values taught by her parents being a Muslim. Those restrictions and burns she had to go through, for glorifying the Indian Classical Dance.
We have always perceived and learnt that Muslim women associate themselves to a religion where they are required to cover their entire body when out in public, with the exception of the hands and face. The importance of Hijab, in the religion is followed to the core. Whereas, they are also expected to refrain from any actions that may draw any attention to them such as wearing jewellery, jingling ornaments and perfume. They are must to behave in the best of their behaviors and a dignified manner. 
Despite keeping this in mind, Asfa had her attention diverted to the form of dance, Kathak. It was a form of trance she used to get in, when a sound was heard, letting her feet move spontaneously; her hands clinging to the context of the harmony; her body being ambiguous, echoing the melody. 




   Asfa had grown up learning Kathak, the forms of that dance, the intensity of emotions it is performed with, clearing and cleansing the mind and soul. She had a thought to escape from the phony cosmos to the reality of her merriment. Asfa's ami used to gaze at her, practicing Kathak in her room, putting ghungroos on and losing herself to the eternity. For Asfa, dazing and musings were all at once in the form of Kathak. Her love for the particular dance never ceased.  

  Seeing this, her ami and abu had started being anxious for their daughter cultivating a Hindu mentality. It was hard for them to pause her, as she was close to chasing her dreams. Her passion for Kathak had grown succeeding day, making it compacted for her parents or any members of the society to confront her. Where Asfa's parents feared the society's ridicule and derision, Asfa was shining with a beam of light practicing every move in order to be a phenomenal Kathak artist. Her faith in her doing was concrete. Concrete than the slandering of the society upon her and her family. 

   Knowingly, Asfa had crossed the boundaries which were set and had devoted herself to Kathak. Living in Pakistan, had snatched the priceless beauty of hers, her parents who never permitted Asfa to soothe her inner self and opt for her choices. Asfa had felt that she was being slammered. After giving a deep pensive envision as to what she was supposed to do to chase Kathak, she came to a point that being in India would be the only way for her to rise higher in her ambitions and projections. Sooner or later, she had realised that the culture she was instructed in would however never grant her the liberty to do as per her wishes. The scorns of the community would still persist. 

   Pondering over that, Asfa had decided to abandon her country and fly to get the whole of what she was loving half way. Asfa, had flown to India, Bangalore, with an inkling that now she would be able to make an identity for herself establishing self satisfaction and atonement. Asfa, had made something toughest to be the easiest thing. The only thing which made it that smooth was mere efforts and her emotions with which she flew to India and took a personal training in Kathak in being a dancer. 
Living in India, had taught Asfa, a lot in life, it seemed like a different outlook to the world, while staying away from your own country and inventing another, in authentic moods and hues. She was termed as an Indian-Muslim 'devotee of dance'. Experiencing through distinct slopes, Asfa was turned to be a follower of Lord Krishna. Her faith and fortune had commenced with the blessings of the lord, or were never there behind her success. With this kind of notion and mindset, Asfa had eradicated all the religion ties. The difference between a Hindu-Muslim mentality with which she had lived, so her parents, had made her devise a new orbit which constituted of positive spirits. No malicious doings, nor the gains.. every quantity seemed unexacting.. easy..worth living. 

  Everything was later sorted out between her parents when she had planned a trip to Pakistan. This time, she had returned with the vibes of being a Kathak artist. She was content in all ways, and so was her family seeing her flourishing in every point of the circumstances.

         It was dance indeed which transported her into another world, away from the usual calms. She chased, she procured with pleasure and mirth, the relevance of joy. Echoing "An artist doesnt discriminate, nor did I. Therefore, I claim being an Artist".


© Latika Sareen
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