A love story..!

O mighty pen!
Bless me with some peace
Bestow on me some solace

Shower me with some fluidity
That your ink prides itself on,
That keeps you going over, above and through

Sharpen me at least some,
I won’t compete with your nib, my word,
It is the point where old lovers meet

Grant my backbone some
Strength and audacity you abound with
To stand up for something worthwhile

O graceful paper!
Lend me some patience
Your listening, receptiveness

Let me borrow some
Sweet encouragement of yours
In the face of staring, blank eyes

O faithful words!
Don’t fail me so
Stand by me some more

Give me some meaning
That I might attach to you
And make it reach out to the reader
Don’t you know, still
There are things unsaid, undone
And you could play a part good enough?

I struggle every moment
To pinpoint the nature of the world and of time
Yet dealing with static moments and hours

Is it not enough of a task?
Already, without your moody eccentricity?
And deceitful treacherous maneuvers?

I guess I must try otherwise
I cannot fight you even with everything I have
But I can still love you with everything I have..!

Will you be kind enough?
Will you let me take your hand?
Will you let me hold you close?

You might, I think, and
I promise I won’t ever leave you alone
Even if I am the last person sane and alive

Would you take my hand then?
Would you be mine, as much as I can take you?
Would you love me, as much as I love you?

Take my word, you will be proud
To have been mine as long as I live,
And when am dead, you’ll adorn my tombstone
You will remain forever, and a part of you
Will forever remain, touched by me,
On paper, on the internet, in the minds, on the lips
Of people who would love you
As much as I do, or even more..!
But only if you accept me today
And let me have this dance with you…!!
Makarand 12.7.18 17.52

What is it?

Write
Erase
Write
Tear it up
Write
Burn it down
Write
Shatter the pen
Write
Sever the finger
Write
Soak up the blood
Write
Cut the arm
Write
Crack the limbs
Write
Mince the body
Write
Smash the skull
Write
Fry the brain
Write
Set it ablaze
It?
What is it?
Nothing remains.
Still..
Write…
What is it that writes? still…??

Makarand

Quest

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This is such a strange sensation. It is like running continuously without even stopping to breathe. Or like swimming underwater without an oxygen cylinder and mask and without surfacing for a long time. Or like going through the hordes of tasks without sleeping or eating or shitting or drinking or even listening to a piece of heavenly music. Or like…hell…let me at once make clear what I am talking about.

No, this is not a rat race; for there isn’t much competition here and you are not forced to run either. This is no race for money, name or fame or power. No. This is a quest for understanding. Understanding self. Understanding the world. Trying to make out (this so sounds like an intercourse!) an order amongst the chaos of this so-called world. This unending quest is tiring, maddening and frightening at times.

The so-called world is full of myths and millions and billions lives end without even realizing this. Yes, there are myths everywhere. The mankind, for example is no ‘kind’ kind as a whole. The world we call our world is never ours. The beasts are seldom cruel. The white is no white, it needs seven damned wavelengths of seven colors to make it white. Some call this science, some paradoxes, I prefer myths; because you need to break every wrong belief to reach and uncover the right one. One of the cherries on this mythical cake is education; especially schooling which so rarely educates in true sense. It succeeds in creating and building newer myths more often than in breaking the old stinky ones.

Anyway, so we were talking about a quest. For understanding. Everything. This quest started from a juncture I cannot ascertain. And it has engulfed my entire being. Who am I? Why am I here? What do I do? Where do I go? Why is reality real? Why is fiction more beautiful than facts? What can I do to make it better?

Gosh! Look at the size of the questions; and I am addressing all of them, all at once. No wonder it is draining every living drop of energy from my brains and my body. And while it has brought me around to some really insightful answers, these answers themselves have created even more complicated questions and challenges.

Which answers to which questions? and what more complications? Damn this self-obsessed banter that leaves the listener in a tangled maze of riddles.

Well, this quest has brought me to truly understand and accept that:

World is an unfair place. Equality and Freedom cannot, repeat, cannot, live a happily married life. Ever. They marry only to be divorced soon. Humans love structures, orders, systems. AND they love Breaking these even more. Life is caught in duels. Paradoxes. Opposing forces everywhere. Between, for example, ‘living in the moment’ and ‘acting in favor of long-term well-being’. There is an unending list of such ‘betweens’. and so on…

But the point is different here. This unending quest is tiring, maddening and frightening at times. Yes. I wish I had never learned to question or find answers. It would have been a peaceful existence. No, I am not a pessimist, mind you. I need to learn to relax, to stop comparing between ‘what is’ and ‘what is must be’, to pause, to allow myself some imperfections and shortcomings, to forgive myself, to forgive the world and the people around. And take a bite of life sweet and sour and hot; and a swig from the bottle of ‘letting go’; and a nap on the wings of moments stolen from the stern shores of time; lying down with my face buried in the breasts of life.

Then I will rise and face. The quest, the reality, the life and the death and all the glorious questions of existence.

I believe I might…!

-Makarand

 

Writing a storm

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Writing is an intensive process

As good as cutting out a piece of your soul

Seems rather gory but would you? Really?

Wouldn’t you? Really?

 

The soul, the mind, the brain

The subconscious of a ghost

Whatever that actually is,

Is a stone, a rock continuously being etched

 

The atmospherics and the moods

Push it, hit it, carve it & shape it

Inside the huge cave of the body

Unseen, untouched and unknown

 

And you need to show it, uncover it

Display it in all its glory of follies and delights

For you cannot hold it all in you

The devil of a thing, a cyclone, a thunderstorm

 

It may never be complete, for the time is limited

But it has to be shared nonetheless

So that you may live, to etch more, show more

The world needs to see as much as you need to show

 

To what measure? Don’t ask

There is no extent, no end; not one that we know of

While the carver is at work, the exhibitor can’t stop

Would you risk being a cyclone that blows itself away?

Wouldn’t you?

– Makarand

Mogya…!

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It was 6.12 in the morning when I reached Shahada on 6th Nov, quite tired & sleepy. I didn’t know the address of new office, so dialled one of our students, Mogya, as already planned. We agreed to meet near the old office from where he would take me to the new one. With heavy eyes & equally heavy steps I reached the place & waited at the crossing with my luggage. It was the beginning of a fresh new day & the town was slowly waking up. Life in that part of town is not that fast & the road was quite lonesome, stretched in all four directions in front of me.

I didn’t even know in what direction was Mogya going to come, so I kept shifting my glance across all the directions (except the one I had come from). In a few minutes I noticed a small figure slowly walking towards me. As he came into view, I saw him – a small boy of 12-13, with unsure gaze, walking with small steps. I hadn’t quite observed him until he halted in front of me & looked at me, as if trying to make sure of something. Then his eyes must have reached the LOLT (Light of Life Trust) logo on the front left of my t-shirt. There was a small but immediate smile on his lips & he spoke (in Marathi).

“Sir, why are you waiting here?”

It should have clicked me that he must be one of the “Anando” beneficiaries, but I had not seen him, (so he must have been a new student) & also the lack of sleep had really quite slowed me down, I guess.

“I am waiting for a student of ours. I need to reach the office but I don’t know the address” was my reply.

He was quick to understand I hadn’t recognized him.

“Sir, I am Gopal; Gopal Koli, from workshop.”

“Ohh… Sorry I didn’t recognize you. How are you..?”

“I am ok. Should I show you the way to office? It is right down this road. You will see a shop & the office is just next to it”, pointing his finger towards one of the roads, he was quick & ready to help.

With an inward smile, I thanked him. “But I don’t have the key dear, so I will have to wait for Mogya.”

“Ok….”

I kept observing him & he spoke again after a few silent moments. “But sir, I cannot come to class (workshop) today”, his face was a bit sad, a bit guilty if my observation was right.

“Why, are you going out somewhere”, I asked, thinking that the Diwali vacation was still on.

“No”

“Then, is there a problem?”

“No sir, but…actually, we are in a debt; so all of us (the family) need to go to pick cotton in the fields.”

“Ohh…” I was silent.

Eventually Mogya reached. In the meantime, Gopal had noticed another student, Lakshman, hurrying off on his bicycle & had called him, “Look, sir has come”. He too, came & greeted me. I knew Lakshman was going for work, too, in the vegetable market nearby.

Gopal & Lakshman waved to me & started walking, while I stared at them & their path. Slowly I turned & began walking with Mogya, who had already kept my bag on his bicycle.

My mind was racing while I was trying to converse with Mogya.

It is not just Gopal or Lakshman. Many of the kids adopted by LOLT, need to work to support their family. Sometimes the children themselves feel the dire need of earning, while in some cases parents & guardians force them to work. During harvest, picking cotton earns you around 20 Rs per 5 kg & the children manage to get up to 150-180 Rs every day. This is a huge sum of money earned by a single member, for those families which we work with.

Boys as well as girls work in fields; in Jalna & Nandurbar it is cotton, while in Washim, it is soya bean & toor. In Nandurbar, girls also work for making papads. In these respective seasons, school & learning is automatically put off the priority list of these families.

They are not the ones to blame. The gap between the rich & the poor in India has been continuously widening for several decades. When even the basic needs of food, clothing & a roof are not satisfied, education is never on the list of life’s requirements. Even if the child reaches school, there is lack of teachers, of required amenities & the level of sensibility to accept & work for these children.

Nobody is ready to have faith in these children, to believe that they, too, have all the potential & can do everything that the kids in urban areas, with all the facilities & support, can achieve. And the number is huge. The NSS survey (62nd round) says there are 5.6 crores of school dropouts every year, in India, of which, 4.5 crores are from rural areas.

What a long journey it is, to bring ALL these kids back in the mainstream of education & development…

“Sir…we have reached”, Mogya was telling me. Suddenly waken up from my thoughts, I looked at him. Mogya had come to us about 2 years ago, at a stage when he was completely driven into earning, through small jobs here & there. He thought school & learning would give him nothing.

When I was again losing myself in my thoughts about him, he started, “Sir, it is only 3 months for my SSC board exam now…!” Thinking how much he has changed, i entered the office. There were many paintings & art works of our children displayed on all the walls. On a wall was a big chart with some good thoughts on it.

I started reading, “Education means social reformation…” I smiled heartily when I reached the end of it, “compiled by: Mogya Subhash Valvi”.

Smiling, I turned back to find Mogya standing behind me. He met my gaze & though unsure of why I was smiling, he gave a truly honest smile.

I was happy… & I am happy. The journey is long, but it has begun…!!!

– Makarand

P. S. As on today, April 2018,Mogya has completed graduation from science and is working as a full time teacher in my organization,the one which helped him complete his education.