Black or white?

Zebra stripes, crossing lines, and inked pages

Dreams of subconscious minds, nights to days

Morals and sins, parting wrong from right

You hate, you love, you think and you do

Why everything appears black and white!

Look again! A drop of black emerging in white

Can you see the dance of light into the darks

On the horizon, no absolute truth or the perfect lie

People are not monochrome as they look

How can you tell life is black or white!

You insist to see everything in two shades

The dark colour for you maybe my white

Holes in the divider that you ignored

No complete black or spot-less white

Did I tell you? I‘m grey from the inside!

©Charu Gupta and Potpourri of Life

Don’t mind your language

Got an invitation for a birthday party from my not so distant cousin.  She wanted to celebrate the first birthday of her granddaughter (I have cousins of all ages) amongst a big gathering with a lot of fanfare. I was giving myself every possible excuse to not go for this jamboree.

Reasons– leaving behind my kids and husband and that too on a weekend, they have to manage at least two meals on their own (means Maggie and eggs! And they would love it!) Another defense for my hitch was ‘transport’; it would be five hours travelling by bus (It has been years since I travelled by UP roadways… I heard they have upgraded).

But my conscience overplayed and pushed away all my pretexts; how can I miss the chance to meet my sassy aunts (mausies & mamies) and vibrant cousins! The narration of all kisse kahani (family tales) and recalling all the childhood shaitani memories. And to savour the typical UP (Uttar Pradesh) flavours. 

Let my family enjoy an independence day!

Tickets of an early morning A/c bus were booked and my mommy was accompanying me (added bonus!). Two married women discussed life on a not so boring ride. No other friendship can be placed above the bond between mother and daughter. Taking all the bumps, thuds and jams in our stride; we reached Moradabad (A city in UP).

Hugs, chats and the food! Everything was worth coming. And I found a fan of my blogs in my youngest cousin (15 years old). She has read all my prose and poems. She was very much inspired to start writing her own but she had a worry.

“Didi, I have so many thoughts to share but my English is not good”.

What is more important thought or the language?

Of course, one needs language to express if you are a writer but haven’t we made language mightier than feelings?  In context to English in India.

You can appreciate a painting or music without any restraint of language but when it comes to writing, we start looking for the spellings, punctuations and sentence structure; overlooking the message or expression- Why!?

A confession– I’m not 100% sure about my command over the language and I often need to check spellings.

I always appreciate whenever someone corrects me; it’s like learning through the mistakes. But at the same time, I don’t like people judging someone’s knowledge, creativity or beauty of thoughts on the basis of grammar. I sympathise with the shortsighted people who can read the lines but not the feelings.

Let language (English) be just the medium not the master. Use it to empower you not hinder your way to express.

“Hey girl! Express yourself bindaas (without fear); let the language rulers do the corrections in their mind and those who appreciate the beauty of thoughts will get your point overlooking the slip of comas and tenses!”

By the way my family loves to be captive under my rule; don’t want more independence days!


© 2018 Charu Gupta and Potpourri of life.