Dear Inner Child

Spill out

This little girl of 12 her name is Red,

who sees her mother sell her body

in digits she can count in her little fingers

draws stick figures of them in a house

with better clothes and a man 

she can call a father.

As she spills over her colors

dripping in her tears

she wants to spill out

The young boy only 14 is Pink,

who is not aroused by breasts

but loves chest hair

and dreams of cuddling with Tom

does not want his mother

sending him on play dates with pretty girls

As he shuts himself indoors

and shudders at the weight of the word “gay"

and how it will crush his family

he wants to spill out

A girl in sweet sixteen is Yellow,

whose feet are the wheels of her chair

cannot run for prom queen

because she does not fit the picture perfect frame

of having two legs to stand on

she hates the words ‘special’ and ‘different'

and runs away from the sight of charities and do gooders

who have drawn a circle of enforced normalcy 

and developed theories around her existence

she wants to spill out.

A woman of 25 is Grey,

has loved a man

has loved a woman

she has slept with the man

and kissed the woman

and is asked to choose one specie of human beings

because the world is black or white

but she is true to her name,

away from making these choices

away from fitting in

she wants to spill out.

When Mir was born

he heard the Azan from the mosque

he also drank water with holy basil from the temples

he grew up holding his hands

in two different ways to pray

one with both hands held up like reading a book, open

one with both hands joined seeking mercy, closed

in the mosque he was called a kafir

and in temples the silence around him was enough

Enough to make him wonder who he was

beyond the labels of enforced religion

and why he should even choose just one color

to spill out in?

Coming out

is only a choice for those

who can come out into 

a place as safe as the closet

they were in.

Look around

ask your self

Are you in a closet too?

Do you want to come out?

What color are you?

Where is the canvas

for Yellow, Pink, Red, Grey and the colorless yet

to spill out on?

Where is the canvas?

His tryst with water

To Kashmir

Inspired by Basharat

He was never afraid of water,

water is where he came from. 

When his Ummi's water broke 

and he lunged himself out 

into a burning land. 

He was never afraid of water 

water was very useful, he knew 

it could wipe the soiled clothes

freshen him up after a long day of play 

and wipe blood from small wounds.

He was never afraid of water 

people came from far and wide

to sit on toy like boats 

and watch his home town in awe 

he never forgot the look in their eyes. 

He was never afraid of water 

he would jump into the lake

a secret get-away awaited him 

9 feet deep, silence and the fishes 

were better than stones and howls.

He was never afraid of water

Until it started to rain down

Like it was here to stay 

Until it started to make it's presence 

felt - every where. 

He prays the sun would come closer 

and slowly take the water away 

secretly- one sip at a time

Revealing what is left 

He wishes the water would 

rain itself heavy back up into the skies 

right where they belong,

So he can stop being afraid of water 

again. 

~ Ray 

She (part 2)

She blows the smoke from her lips bruised hard from the process The process of pursuing  and being pursued Every bone aching to be loved she threw her self as a canvas Some were artists some were otherwise Strokes of blood red and black across her body  Like contours of a world slowly crumbling She blows the smoke from her nose that slowly has lost track of smells Smells of ~ Strangers she had had in unknown lands Leftover remnants left behind by women who gave up too soon She ashes the burning cigarette into the night, this night This night truth revealed itself in his snores She was a pencil stroke fighting to make her mark on- before the fore play  and after the aftermath But she wasnt dark enough to be noticed She stubs the dying light into the pores of her skin This mark will stay. ~ Ray

Writing - an addiction

I have been on a writing high in the past two months. Like all highs, there will come a low at some point. Like what goes up must come down, eventually. I left my comfort zone of being around family and familiarity and moved again to a fairly new city on work. I have come here four days ago but have not been able to write a single poem or thought. Usually they start brewing in my head, but this time all I see is blank walls - no color, no light, no images, nothing. I wonder, maybe this too shall pass in a day. But it does not. It trickles into everything I do. This emptiness. It worries me. I try writing a few words, hoping maybe if I try they shall burst out of me again. To my dismay, it does not happen. 

Then I decide I will write about how I am unable to write. The words ‘writers block’ comes to my head and I quickly push them away because somehow I still am not convinced this is actually a block. I think this is something else. The universe has a hidden agenda and is testing me (as usual). So I do not give up. I give in. Give in to this feeling. This inability, this helplessness, this worry, this state of mind, this state of being. I question myself. Is this really emptiness? Or am I too full to contain anything else now? Is there nothing that seems like a muse anymore? Do I always need an external muse to write? Will I always need to wait on that highway for a stranger in a car to come along, jump in and take me where I want to go - into the arms of this high that writing is. What if no one came? Will I wait or will I keep walking. 

The tears are rolling down my face now. I do not want to feel so helpless. I fight it. I feel like something is choking me. I keep breathing deep. I dont stop staring at this screen and continue to let this flow. So it flows. I silence my self for a while. 

And this comes to me:

Everything exists in duality. Without the dark you would never feel the intensity that light brings. Without leaving home and wandering the streets in that wanderlust you would never really feel the beauty of a family and the love that binds those walls together. Without letting go of things, you would never be able to embrace things and hold them tight like you never want to let go. Just the same way, without a spell of not-writing I would never know with such intensity how integral writing is to me. I would never know I could feel so miserable and crave for words to come out. I have only ever craved for human beings this way. Never craved for something within me or the power to create. 

And the difference here is, when something you are looking for all around is inside of you - you will always find it. Maybe it will take time but you most definitely will source it , hunt it down, embrace it, make love to it, make magic with it.

Just like I did now. I thought I could not write. The words were hiding and waiting to be discovered. So even if it seems like you have lost your magic, don't give up. Don't run away from it in denial. The magic lurks around in the darkness. The magic knows when to reveal itself. The magic is seeking you. 

Ray Iyer

A gift in time

This piece of creation was gifted to me by a dear friend on my birthday a few years ago. This is a letter to her. Not just a letter in gratitude but with an intention of kindling a certain fire in her that I know when ignited will create magic.

Dear Bishakha,

The day you gifted me this neither of us realized the deeper significance behind this. This has been on my wall until now. I would wake up and stare at it sometimes. I never got around to ever knowing why you portrayed this and not something else. I still do not know what was in you when you birthed this. But it has evoked many different emotions in me and taught me some lessons too. 

When I saw it two years back, I thought you captured a soul hugging the stalk of a tree in the midst of a deep forest hiding her self away. Away from the world because she feared something. She yearned a certain freedom which she knew was within her but still some where out of her reach and hold. 

When I see it today, I see someone who is totally at peace with her nakedness (in every way ; mind soul, body and beyond) and seeks inspiration from nature to maintain her sanity. She is throwing her self and hugging nature in surrender and with love. Fears drop and there is so much more space for learning and expression. 

Every day as I wake up and stare at this, I know I have evolved because what I see in this beautiful image in front of me too is evolving with me. It has taken me so long to recognize this and even longer to share this with you. 

So NO, your act of creation was not futile. It has sown a seed in my life that has blossomed into a beautiful lesson and it will only continue to flower as life unfurls. I sincerely hope you never stop creating and realize that you have a wonderful gift within you. Use it well for yourself and the universe.

Love,
Ray 

Infinity calling

My element has always been Fire. That sheer restlessness and need to constantly be on the move. Watch as things catch fire and crackle and crumble. But the ocean has been calling me. The sun is no longer something I want to protect myself from. I want to soak in the rays of the sun. Let it seep through every pore of my being. The ocean is calling me fiercely and I give in.I watch the gentle waves kiss the shores. I observe the ocean from a distance first. Her grace manifesting in the birds flowing onto the waves , the reflection of the sun in her body and the sounds of the infinite waves touching the shore together. 

I am no longer able to be just an observer. I want to be the experience. I walk up and slowly start letting myself into her arms. The water is sun kissed- warm. The sands are soft beneath the soles of my feet. I somehow cannot get my eyes off the sun as I start to use my body to carry me forward into her. Getting deeper, I find the darkness of the water increase. Darker shade of green. I cannot see too much but I know my feet have well lost their grounding. As I swim towards the sun, I do not want to stop. The sun radiates its energy into the horizon and I am certain every wave that is born from there carries this radiance all the way to where I am. Touching my body. This energy is different. It is not the same as sitting on the sands and soaking up. What I feel is the power of the sun and the ocean together. Some madness that makes me want to not stop. Some force that does not let me fear the depths of the ocean. 

As I become the experience , I am taken over. I reach far enough to not recognize faces on the shore anymore. I throw my hands back and feet up and look at the sky. Shut my eyes. I can hear the ocean. I am suddenly overwhelmed at the life the creatures in the ocean must have. As I open my eyes and look around me. Unable to fathom the depths of the ocean I realize what infinity could be. I am but a spec in this vastness. Insignificant. Finite. 

As I breathe in the smell of the ocean, I feel like I have taken in a small part of this infinity. As I waddle around the water, trying to belong here, trying to make myself comfortable - I know that it is going to take time. Every thing that is part of this infinity is infinite in itself first. The sun, the moon, the ocean, the living world beneath. 

Immersing myself in the ocean, I can feel my water element take over the fire. Slow and steady. 

I will keep coming come back. Closer to this infinity. Until I am one with it. Completely.

~ Ray