March on Timeline

March on Timeline

On the timeline of life’s path

Marching on,  

As fast as a deer

And slow like a snail’s move,

Quiet noise of self

Stirred out into the bowl of peace,

Churned into a buttery compassion

Brave heart stumbles into a wish

Where peace and love be

Found wrapped up in a humble fold.

It is March, another addition to my life’s  

Existence. Today I need to hold on the

Path I have chosen to share happiness

To the world at large.

 So is my choice to march on at any pace given to me.

Bent Creek

Bent Creek

                                                                                                            

My daily walk usually starts from the left side of our lane but today I decide to turn right.  Again I walk up the slight hill, then immediately turn left to cross the small bridge over the creek. A ripple to soft music whispers and lures me.

I can’t help but stall my walk; turn toward the creek and peep through the net fencing. It looks so calm and gentle with a melodious tune of flow. I send my greetings to it and in response the creek giggles though the ripples while it continues its journey. I continue to view it as solemn silence and peace enter me.

The Last Glimpse

The Last Glimpse.

On the deck of the Sapphire Princess

By the Eastern horizon

An enchanted moment of glory

Dreamlike,

The sun casts a a smile of rainbow

A final farewell before its deep plunge

Into the ocean.

The parting, a sad transition

Clouds stands stunned

Ready to shed tears of rain.

Sky’s hue turns ashen

As the smoldering fire of sunshine vanishes

I stand still longing to capture

A glimpse of the rainbow 

Beyond comprehension

Only secluded images of the

Moment of glory remains.

                                         Written by Jamuna Advani on 29th December,2012

The Shoes

one step followed the other Tuck, tuck on the ground the favorite pair of shoes lovingly bore my weights in different 1scales giving comfort and joy for innumerable seasons. its enduring sacrifice! After thousands of foot steps synchronizing the heart beats! Now it had to be halted as the shoes bore holes and no cobbler could make it whole. Help beyond expectations the truth now revealed journey had to end forever Life;s destiny followed its path.

War against a tiny Intruder

War against a tiny intruder Tiny spider crawling, An enemy in my room! My tapping feet to scare it off yield no result Running his heart in the mouth Suddenly froze into death. Motionless, it watched my steps. My eyes focused on it. My feet remained rooted The tiny enemy .remained frozen in eternity I became an impatient onlooker,. The gravity of war heightened A changed strategy was all I needed . My feet moved toward it, The creature acknowledged the oncoming danger Ran as fast as it could and Hid by the side of the mat. Seeing its desperate attempt to save its life, .My decision to leave it alone Was now the only choice, I had no skill to communicate with it That my intention was to let it out of the room without a pinch of harm. It was left alone by the side of the mat But my inquisitiveness brought me to the spot And found it gone from its hiding place, Climbing up on the white wall it rested with a sigh of relief. With a peace of soft tissue paper in hand The tiny spider was picked up carefully And flipped it off the tissue outside the house. As if breathing like a thunderstorm It ran away toward the cover of the grass., The tiny creature won the war It gave me the enlightened vision That for every living being Life is as precious as anyone else.

Haunted Memory by Jamuna Devi Advani

Haunted Memory. Jiribam, Manipur, India June,1942 (North East India) It was the scorching sun which made my grandmother hold her umbrella with her left hand while she held my little hand in her right. The sun was not in a hurry to go down toward west and seemed to be busy torching us on this side of planet. As a seven year old I did not bother much about hot weather. Bubbling with enthusiasm and anticipation of getting sweet rice balls at the Friday Market I walked chattering with never ending questions which kept my grandmother occupied with answers. An unexpected sight caught my attention and I pulled my grandmother’s hand. We stood for few seconds and saw the teen aged boy with slightly protruding belly sitting on the rock, his sack placed on the dirt road and eyes closed. His hands crossed on his chest as if trying to protect himself from the cold. It was a hot day but he was shivering. My grandma pulled me and walked ahead leaving the boy alone without saying anything. I became inquisitive, “Grandma, what has happened to him? Why is he shivering?” “He will be okay, once his shivering is gone he will walk to his destination.” she replied. She also mentioned that she had seen before some of the villagers doing the same thing while the attack of malarial fever came over to them. But I kept thinking about that boy. His faded loin cloth and his facial feature indicated he was from a tribal community and most probably a poor farmer’s son from the hills. My grandmother being from a higher caste would avoid touching any one like him The caste system was predominant factor during my grandmother’s time in the 1940s. Along with the struggle for independence from Britain, Mahatma Gandhi was a strong advocate against the caste system. Hence after independence the caste system was abolished completely. But the memory of this incident haunts me till this day. Did any one help him get to the hospital and receive treatment? I wonder if that boy survived till he reached his adulthood.