Sharon Eappen

He stood there, just stood watching the sight that beheld him. He didn't move too much. Such was the sight for an ink-soaked story-telling mind. He stood there in serenity in those robes pale and white or such was the scene when my mind was in sub-conscious kind. He was looking out from that balcony, some sort of strange dream. I didn't see his face, he was travelling into the world green. He stood there, gazing at whatever beheld him. Now I sit here, trying to recollect that vague detail. Dreams. Momentary dreams. Just dreams. 26.12.2017/ 28.12.2017

Some things just have Their own time and own place And own rhythm and pace. The right ones eventually Find each other For they have the same hiding places. But what is painful Is the wait Or the probability that There is no wait And therefore no love. 19.09.2017

(Things I wish someone told me. Things I wish someone told all of us. Things I wish all of us told someone.) If you saw things my way, would you let me in? I want to see the scars that shaped you, the stories that made you. Would you let me in if I begged you? Tell me what you fear even if it's something as silly as spiders. Tell me what keeps you awake when you try falling asleep. Tell me what music you like- the ones that you cry and the ones you dance to. I want to see your eyes sparkling with passion when you talk about your favourite things. I want you to show me an old art of yours that you no longer create. I want you to show me pieces of you that no longer exist - those dead passions that you couldn't feed. I want to know what races your mind or what was that one thing you knew was worth living for when you lost hope. I want to know if your interests are as bizarre as mine. Did you know that I talk to trees? Or that I cry, out of a mixture of happin...

Keeping Quiet  was the poem that was being taught when this happened. Pablo Neruda wanted his readers to spend some time in silence, meditating and introspecting and it was like Anjana Teacher fulfilled his wish like it was her duty as a Literature teacher. She told us to close our eyes and place our palms on our thighs. I did so, willingly, because I badly wanted to leave my confinement. "Feel yourself breathe" or something like that. I did. She asked us to feel our heartbeat in different parts of our body and I did. My mind was only beginning to grasp the power of this practice. Then she told something a little more vague. "Expand your consciousness" or something like that and I did and it felt like something within me started to inflate. Was I expanding? " Concentrate on the noises around you." I did. The wind was my favourite. I could even hear noises from the school's playground. Then I started to hear birds, just faintly. "By now yo...

       Why do I have to cover my hair when in worship? Is it because I'm a woman? Is it because it is written that I must? Oh, do you not read Scripture with contextual understanding?       Am I, then, a disgrace if my head is uncovered but my dress still modest? Are you assigning a certain costum onto me - that has no relevance right now - just because I belong to a certain gender? Why are we expected to have our dupattas draped over our hair then? And why only us, women?       Don't teach me to cover myself with a shawl over my head. Teach me, instead, to cover myself with humility, respect, love and compassion. Don't teach me about women submissiveness. Teach both the men and the women about the same humility, respect, love and compassion.       Teach us both to stand in reverence and have a heart of purity as we stand in worship beside each other, facing the same altar. Teach us to bear with each other...

Teach me. To walk in holy paths To seek your face To use time. Teach me. To walk away From vibes negative To cut the unnecessary. Teach me. To love Even when it's hard Even if it stabs. Teach me. To let go. To distance from Burdens unnecessary. Teach me. To be wise To know the difference The fake and genuine. Teach me. With patience and love. A fountain of mercy An ocean of grace. Teach me. Painfully mould me. This time I won't Complain or whine. Teach me. Within my heart Stir a burning desire To know you more. Teach me. The light and darkness And the circle Of contextual ethics. Teach me. To drink pain Willingly as it Cleanses my heart. Teach me. The unknown and Less known Unveil whatever is To be known, Creator and Master Of all things, Known and unknown. 25.09.17

We're broken pieces You and I. May be we could fit in Do you have enough room? We're broken pieces Stabbed with friendship And love that was Only a lesson. We're broken pieces May be together We could be A pretty mosaic. We're broken pieces But aren't mosaics pretty? The random scattering, The visual playing with your mind. We're broken pieces The ones that need  No mending Only time will. We're broken pieces You were always there When I broke down Even when you didn't know why. We're broken pieces May be I'll tell it to you Some other day When it hurts lesser. We're broken pieces Let me cry  On your shoulder. Let me hold your hand Safely in mine Through the bumpy ride. Let my tears speak For all that is to be said, As I feel the pulse of Your palm beat against mine. 22.09.17