The sky that Wavers~

Madhav Johri[c]

Over the years everything has changed.
People have lost the essence of their existence. Relations are not able to withstand the strong winds and adversities.
The skies and the tombs have witnessed every act since ages. From the couples who danced and twirled in front of the white eternal beauty and by the banks of river Ganges-to- the kids who lively played with coloured balls and sat on the green grass; it has been an eye-bearer for all.
The sky above has changed too. It throws various shades as the day sets in and commences. It lights up the entire night with its shining beauty and the entire day with its golden fierce piece. 
It is never uni-coloured. It reflects all emotions and feelings in a single picture;
From love and hatred to happiness and grief. 

The minarets have changed in colour but its base remains the same. It has seen infinite happy duos being withered into bits and pieces and seen lost wandering souls meeting and remaining entwined forever. It has smiled and showered love for each live born and cried for those who lost their childhood, their innocence. Lost their childhood owing to this society, their mistakes and wrong decisions.
Love is something it describes the best. It is a real life epitome of the same. But had it been just regarding love, then wouldn't have everything been so different? Indeed.

The sky becomes orange and purple as the night approaches. Purple- for the melancholic and love broke souls and Orange- for the fortunate ones. 
But isn't loving about sacrificing? Isn't it about letting go for someone else's happiness? Every relation is a mix of oranges and purples; the sacrificer and the lover. 
Loving is not just about flowers or those romantic dialogues. It's beyond that. It's beyond what happens in humanity. Had love not been about sacrificing, everything would have been so vague. 
Sacrifice- of the creators of the wondrous minarets, who gave up their hands without even thinking about their life. Sacrifice- of the creators, who gave up on their love.

Isn't this what we actually are doing? Letting our loved ones free? Going away from them, distancing from them for their own happiness? Isn't it love when we sacrifice our love to let go of the person we love and let them be with someone they love?
Perhaps we are just like the purple clouds wandering above. 
Wandering to find and seek love. Wandering to be loved by the ones we want. Wandering to let the Oranges outshine. Wandering and sacrificing for them. 
For them to be happy and whole.

Behind the lens: Madhav Johri

The truth~

To the lost old love acquaintance of my life, 

I still remember how you uttered *I love you* and *you are my everything* an year and a half back. I still am able to recall how you said that *I suit you the best*. I remember how you yearned to meet and to be with me. Those songs, sayings and words still echo like a thunder. 
Was there something ever between us? If I compare it with reknown epics, then no and if I see it in a simple way, then yes. But then, is recalling all that after so long of any worth? It is nowhere around it. 
I was wondering a lot about you the other night, don't know why. By the way do you still remember when we met in the month of March when leaves fell one after the another as if they were competing? 
I do remember. The course of wind changed suddenly when we met and it was all sweet and calm. The sky changed like a chameleon and provided the most perfect canvas and cotton balls flew in all directions creating infinite patterns. 
The green metal bench we sat upon has rusted a bit and its paint is chipping off. It remains covered with dried leaves and petals as it was back then but no one is seeing dusting it as you did.  The canopy that covered it is still the same but a bit old, like our love. 
You talked of love and care and blabbered words and dialogues to sooth. But weren't you doing our favorite thing- Acting all this time? Weren't you acting all throughout; or just lying, maybe? 
You said you loved me, and that I meant everything to you but was it true? Even if it was, then what is actually happening at the period? Were all your sweet and little whispers an epitome of virtual world or of a world full of lies? 
Maybe. Maybe not. 
But all I know is that I have cried for our your love; yearned for you and just you. I've written infinite muses and poems and stories  about you. I have written them to get you back, but you ended up going away. I have spent nights for you; thinking, wishing, dreaming, crying, reminiscing. 
Each day you re enter and exit creating a void. You have given birth to a silent chaos in my life via heart. 
Your presence yet absence leads to a confusion, often seen by none but observed only by the lover. 
I do not know whether it is love or not. I don't know whether you really meant when you said you loved me or not. 
The disturbing thoughts of you and day dreams previously haunted me. Nights used to suffocate me and all I did back then was stare at the ceiling and feel my own voice. 
But all I know is that there has been a transition. Of course, I still miss you hard and sometimes cry too. I re read your comments and replies and pity myself But I am able to sleep better now.
You are no new to my heart and brain but the intensity is falling. 
With the changing times, people change and so do feelings. My feelings are intact indeed, but then your feelings? I rather not say a word. I don't have the authority to say in the first place. 
Maybe I have lately realized that you were never meant to be mine. Maybe I have realized that we are just like flowers; part of the same plant but used for different occasions- celebrations and mourning. 

Celebration of your happiness and Mourning of my loss. 

In the pictures: Pratiksha

A Woman...

A woman,

You are a woman. 

From the day you took your first breath to the last one of your existence, you remain a woman throughout.

The struggles, the wars, the pains and the fights,

It all started when you saw the first light.

The nurse rubbing your back harshly,

All the taunts and allegations that were heard upon.

The questionable look on everyone’s face,

“Why God? Why a Girl” they said.

It was all an essence of your womanhood.

An essence of the grim life you embarked upon,

You work like a machine throughout whether be it dusk or the first dawn.

You are a woman, you forever remain a woman.

Whether you dress in short clothes or remain covered head to toe, you are a woman. 

Whether you cake your face with makeup or not, you still are a woman. 

Compiled of anxiety, exhaustion, sacrifice and deprivation,

You still go on and on and on.

You still go on and on, caressing and attending to your wounds and scars.

Using your old faded tee to soak the blood and your precious tears like stars. 

Walking across the lane you are noticed.

Walking across the lane you are noticed and they ‘check you out’,

As if you’re someone who is new in the town. 

They scan you through your skin tight jeans and crisp shirt from head to toe,

With cheesy comments and whistles you are bestowed.

But no, it is not about how you look or about the clothes you wear,

It’s about their obsolete personalities that are beyond any repair.

You suffer the uncertainties out of choice, 

Often considered unequal in front of this society to the boys.

Touched all over the body with sweet whispers in your ears, 

Sexually abused, molested and harassed; with eyes brimming with tears.

People will watch everything with mouths open and eyes glued, 

You will cry and yell and plead but they won’t show any solicitude. 

You are a woman and you fight against the rape culture, the injustices and the violence,

You open up your voice and are sent into a brainery without your compliance. 

All this changes you and you do not remain the same,

No you do not, and the society is the one to be blamed. 

The soul in you gets abated but you still remain a woman,

You remain a woman and become stronger.

You are a woman, no less than the males,

You give birth to a child shunning his/her gender, creating a new tale. 

But even in this contemporary world, a female asks another female, 

To abort if it’s going to be a girl.

But Why?

Why are the girls considered to be a burden?

Why is their life so perplexing, so uncertain?

Why are the girls taken up for granted? 

The feeling of being an option and misused is rancid. 

I ask, why?

Do you think it’s a joke or are ‘we’ a joke?

Why do you even expect us to behave normally, after all our trust in humanity that is broke? 

A woman is silenced,

She’s raped, exploited, and brutalized. 

She’s forced to dress in a certain way, live according to the society,

And hide all her wishes, dreams, needs and anxiety. 

But after all this too, a woman remains a woman.

She walks silently and solemnly,

And carries out all her jobs and duties honestly.

But over all this, 

They are beautiful and deserve to be loved.

The deserve equality and respect no matter what.

Nurturing and caring females is the need of the hour,

You and I are a woman; 

And that’s our superpower.

-Sanjana 

-Behind the lens: Xing ( Instagram: caliallstaring)

Of Blossoms and Love....

Dear Zara,

How have you been? Time erodes so fast, isn't it?

It seems as if we were walking with your blue painted nails; seeking shelter in my hands just yesterday. But alas! That’s the false reality. All the times we've had together and your childish whimsical talks still haunt me day ‘n’ night.

It’s been damn long, Zara!

You've had been an epitome of wisdom and strength. How you used to love my voice and compare me with a nightingale still makes me smile wide. You are unlike other girls. You are not only beautiful but graceful inside out.

But what happened with you with us was unfortunate.

I remember once asking you what you wanted as a gift to which you replied, “Something that stays with me forever, something imperishable.” 

I understood what you meant at that instance itself.

She wanted those flowers we always saw while travelling to college. That flower seller had the most precious artificial flowers and he always smiled and blessed us.

He used to mutter some words in Urdu and said we both were meant to stay together. .

The wisest sees the fortune, I suppose!

But that joy of being together was mortal.

I remember how we peacefully sat on your birthday, under those dripping clouds which submerged within us. You heroically told me about Acute Leukemia which was swallowing you up enormously. You chose your birthdate to promulgate this to me. I was shattered, shattered into tits and bits, Zara. It was something least expected; something I never wanted to happen.

But it did.

I was sobbing like a young kid and you stood right beside me in that little blue dress with your favourite flowers held close to your heart. You were smiling like a fairy and I just cried sitting on the ground.

We started seeing less of each other. Maybe you didn't want to tear me apart or hurt.

But that very news shattered me.

One fine day you called me up to drive you to the salon. As I drove, I started crying terribly and you laughed on my red reindeer nose.

 That made me better. I recall myself yelling and banging my head against the wall seeing the hairstylist chopping off your luscious ombre locks. You were smiling while looking at your reflection. You got them all shortened and I was crying like a madmen! I was sniffing and adoring you without a blink. 

I wanted you to stay by my side for eternity. I didn't want to lose you, Zara.

You still looked pretty with all the marks and bruises. You always did!

….

Cancers tend to weaken the sufferer. They depress the person but you fought it. You became strong and vigorous. I remember you playing sixes and sevens with your body. But you didn't give up.

You fought like a soldier till your last breath. You gave in all you had for your last whiff.

All of it was no less than a nightmare.

….

I entered that place and walked down those musty streets of Hyderabad again. That place was all chaotic like usual but this time; I felt it was vacant and deserted. I was bewildered and sad. The street was full of bangle sellers, studded artefacts and food. Tribal women sat and were weaving and playing with tender mirrors and Ikkat prints. The aroma of strong spices and dry fruits and the infamous “Biryani” and their special “tea” always stunned me.

Nothing much has changed except two things.

One, that I was an alone and a single traveller this time and Second, that our flower seller had aged and had wrinkles. His basket was still brimming with beautiful synthetic flora like always.

I tapped on his shoulder and he recognized me at once. He looked on my either side to greet you, but he failed. Even I did.

Neither of us said anything. He looked sad and I could understand.

The silence literally was ear piercing, Zara!

I took what I needed and walked back with a heavy heart.

…

And finally it’s the day.

It’s your 24th birthday, Zara!

It has been four years now and I kept on writing you ceaselessly. 

Hundreds of letters neatly stacked, tied with a red ribbon were waiting to be posted. I never stopped writing them.

I couldn't get anything grand for you but a tiny token of perpetual love and care.

I'm sitting here right next to your grave with the most precious flowers and letters spread over. They had been longing to meet their true owner and live under her eternal love.

The day has come, Zara. It’s bright yet cloudy. The wind blows sweetly and the birds are chirping the merry song.

The prints have finally found a shelter and their address. The blossoms and those brown wishy-washy sheets have found a soothing place for their respite. They are smiling, Zara.

Happy birthday, my lady love. Hope you like the planned and stay happy as forever and a day.

Keep shining. I adore you every night from the ground, Zara.

I miss you.

Love.

- Photography: Madhav Johri

Ardour and Estrangement~

Madhav Johri (c)

The sky-
After long days of battle finally rested in serenity and peace.
The trees after long and infinite wars,
Let out a sigh of relief.
The leaves were dripping one after the other, 
Completely exhausted and baffled.

It was pure silence and and tranquillity.

The falling drops made clinging sounds,
And they approached the disfigured pond.
Even though the sky became crystal clear, 
The trees and plants exhaled love and separation filled tears.

Love-
Of the people who vowed to stay together; Support each other for eternity and ever.

Separation-
Of those old and young who broke their relation; The people who parted their destinies in that beautiful Lord's creation.

With changing times- people change.

Even when the relationships are broken and made,
The nature, the skies and sparkling streams remain the same.

With new days and new people we tend to forget,
But the trees and plants for them silently wept.

Wept-
Because the ones who talked of love the most,
Were the first ones to suffer and bear the loss. 

-Sanjana Chawla

Behind the lens: Madhav Johri 

Conjectures and Refutations..

As I initiate my road trip to some distant place, am sitting here in my dad's possession and listening to Paradise. 

''She expected the world''

 Yes. 

I really did expect the world and Alas! shattered dreams. 

Expecting and Trusting people is synonymous to our existence and lives. 
It is human nature. Totally. 
It is human nature to approach or just talk to people for their own benefit and goodwill. 
I obviously can not inculpate anybody; Ultimately I too do that to a certain extent. 
Expectations- anyway do hurt and it has been confirmed, not by any report but experiences and they totally suffice everything.  
We live in a self-centred world and perhaps, it does all the wonders. 
A relation is build up on trust and when it's lost, then no great force can help withstanding it.

I too expected people, not just one or two but many. 
I have been taught to trust and believe people. 
But what did I gain by trusting people? 
Scars. Betrayal. Mood swings. Behavioural changes. Shattered self-confidence. 

What not?! 

I trusted them, they didn't. I cared for them, they didn't. 
It was me who got ditched, or rather, left out every time.  
How can I blame anyone in this case? They didn't ask me to expect or trust either. 
Holding on to rotten and rancid things is not the option. 
Not if forgiving, but forgetting is the way. 

The only way. 

After all, for how long can things be held? 

Getting hurt and expecting was my choice. Moving on and not trusting people is my choice as well.

Until next time,

Sanjana

Model: Pratiksha