The Vanishing Wilds

Everywhere I look, I see the concrete jungle
full of people jostling one another,
the towers stretching high, the space between
packed with colourful cars speeding along the roads.
In vain, I try to find the trees of my childhood
only to spot a plant here and there—the
remnants of the once widespread forest—
the shrubs lined in the middle of the road
more tamed than the traffic around. Continue reading The Vanishing Wilds

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Stone Chariot, Hampi

Once upon a time, chariots were an everyday occurrence in the city of Hampi. They sped along the street, leaving the passersby awestruck with their splendor. Now, at the end of the city stands the solitary stone chariot in an empty temple campus.

Lifeless, yet elegant.

Hampi stone chariot

Inside the Vitthala Temple complex stands the magnificent stone sculpture in the shape of a chariot. The stone chariot is one of the most featured attractions of Hampi. It was built in the sixteenth century under the reign of Emperor Krishnadevraya, when Vijaynagar was at the height of its glory.

The chariot is not a monolithic structure, but made of connecting slabs of stones, the connection cleverly embedded in the artistic designs. Though now empty, the Stone Chariot was once a Garuda shrine.

Stone Chariot Hampi and me

Sharing with Our World Tuesday

Every drop matters
Image Courtesy: Pixabay

Drip! Drip! Drip!

The sound grated on her nerves. That which would have been heavenly served as a messenger from hell. If only it were the faucet! Alas, the tap maintained its dry spell.

None of the others did.

The clay water pot leaked; the small storage tank did too. The roof let in showers when it rained. Even the wrinkled old lady’s eyes watered.

But the tap refused to shed a drop.

 

Image Courtesy: Pitsch at Pixabay
Image is CCO Creative Commons

 

The scars are not the evidence of your weaknesses, but of your strengths…

–K.A. Acharya

The scars—quote

The ruins

The ruins
The Ruins at Hampi, Karnataka
Where people see the ruins,
I see the city—as once it was–
bustling with vigour;
the stones anticipating
frenzied activities instead of
the shadows of nothingness,
the emptiness of the market
filled with haggling buyers,
the forlorn temples once
basking in their glorious grandeur,
the abandoned palaces
proud of their showy splendor,
the haughtiness of the nobility,
the dreams of the residents
before it all crashed,
the forgotten relics serving
as a reminder
that invincibility is
but an illusion;
that all these ruins were
once a thriving city;
and every city hopes,
not to become a ruin one day.
© K.A. Acharya 2018

Always Respect Tradition

tradition quote
Always respect tradition, I was taught

And I would have obeyed, but then I realised

If everyone had done the same thing

Where would I be?


Books would no longer be my friends,

Education would be barred to me;

My meagre brain at the mercy of

The wise men, who guided me.

My imagination neatly wrapped

Between the lines of a prayer-book;

My life would be of household chores.

Respect would be an alien word;

I would have taunts and scolds aplenty.

My feet bound to the threshold

Too scared to tread the outside world,

No knowledge would ever pierce the walls;

Ignorance would be my salvation.


Always respect tradition, I was taught

And I would have obeyed, but then I realised

If everyone had done the same thing

I would have faced a horrible fate.


I would be at home, a veil covering

my face, and a husband whom I worshipped

for the kicks and punches, he rewarded me.

I would be serving his parents while

He harassed mine for money.

I would pray for his long life, and not for any 

Claims of love, nor hypocrisy on my part.

I would really want him to live long,

For his death would be my destruction.

I would rather have the bruises he gives

Than be burned in the funeral pyre.

Some cultures would spare my life

Only to kill me everyday.



Always respect tradition, I was taught

And I refused to obey for the sake of a future girl.

Because, when I bring a piece of change,

She would be in some place better.

―K.A. Acharya © 2018

* I in the poem doesn't refer to me (as in Kiran), 
it's any girl who would have been victim 
to irrational traditions and customs. 
Pls check The woes of a Fiction Writer to understand.

The Woes of a Fiction Writer

Last week I met a guy. He asked me if I ever had my heart-broken. I said no. Then, he hinted it’s alright if that’s the case. He even used astrology (my palm lines) to prove that I was nursing a broken heart from the past.
Now, I was perplexed. I have never been through a heartbreak. I’m a happy-go-lucky girl. Not the weepy, depressed kind. Why would anyone think that I was hiding a heartache?
The mystery remained till I checked my last post—the beating heart complete with a haiku on heartbreak. And that’s why I don’t share blog links with my acquaintances.
Well, to give the guy his due, he had asked me before why I haven’t written any posts last few months. My answer: “I wasn’t in the mood. I just don’t want to talk about it.” So I can understand if he thought no writing equals to depressed. The truth is I was being dramatic. I didn’t write because I was busy with clinic and other stuff related to dentistry.
To come back to my point, my writing is not all about me. I’m a fiction writer. We fiction writers have very high imagination and empathy. If I watch an episode of saas-bahu, I can write a whole story about the tortures of a daughter-in-law. If I talk to my pregnant friend, I can write about the troubles of pregnancy without ever becoming pregnant. A child misbehaving in a supermarket—a parenting article is born.
My fiction, and even non-fiction articles are not about my life. They are about people I encounter in my life. So, if I met you somewhere my story might be about you, but not me. Unless I specifically write that the post is about me, it is never me.
But people assume that my writing is me. That, I have gone through everything which they find in my writings. Most of the time, this confuses me because I have no idea what they’re talking about, and sometimes, it irritates me.
fiction writing
Fiction is just fiction. It’s a fantasy about how I wish the world was, or how I perceive the world. It’s to entertain you, to make you think, to make you feel better. The poem, stories are not real. Even the non-fiction (unless autobiographical) is my opinion about the world, not about my life.
We writers are great people to know. We’re as much fun as our writings. If you assume that our writings are us, then you’re losing out on knowing a wonderful person, because you assume you already know everything about us.
Have you recently met a fiction writer? Beware, you might appear in their story with all your traits, and a completely different life/scenario 😉  And you should be happy if it happens. Interesting people fire our imagination, the rest are forgotten.

Heart

after all the pain
it has been through, my heart
still beats for you

beating heart

The above image was my first Boomerang 🙂 It’s been a year since I discovered Boomerang, and I’m still in love with that app 😀

If your thoughts are always in line with what most of the world thinks, it’s time to reflect. Are you thinking for yourself? Or are you an echo for someone else.

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