Pungidasa - 5 years of writing

It has been so many days since I started writing. More than 2500 days.Not that numbers are any thing that matters.

And that is a journey in itself.From really bad formulation of words, to absolutely raw expression of feelings this path has taken me places.

From Messages to Whatsapp pings, Facebook posts and Instagram shares.

From feedback messages to spamming broadcast lists, from ”Nice 😊" , "Stop sending shit poems".

From I really don't understand your poems, too much of " high english " to simple outstanding word usage.

From "you are amazing , you have brought tears to my eyes" to great attempts at writing.

This journey has been more about the inner journey to learn and appreciate the small nuances of life. To give wings to thoughts and to take you on a journey through words, frames on a moving instant, caught in time and presented to you to savour, appreciate and find joy.

Not all times are as rosy as this. When the feedback is just Nice, or it is too harsh that you revisit your works again to really check your sanity. And my words have not reached you in the way I intended.

These are the times of learning. Learning to draw equal status to the relative pleasing feedback and the really gut wrenching raw feedback.

Not all the works are of greatness.
The world has grown to want perfectness so much that it has forgotten the lesser great or mediocre ones. And I am at times in a position to tell you a " Sorry " for sending such mediocre poems to extra ordinary people.

But the most amazing part of the night, is when the words start flowing , one word to a sentence , one sentence to a paragraph. And then to a poem or a story.
And then I am blessed when the thought has been put as a seed in your mind and then it starts its own story in your mind.

And making you smile, cry and revolt into action has a thrill that is uniquely satisfying.

The journey has also been about you, it has been about you. Through words, I have been able to connect to you in a way that only years of friendship can . Heard stories of yours that even bottles of wine couldn't​ have brought out.

A connection that has made us more than acquaintances, more than friends and most importantly has connected us  without boundaries.

I have been spamming you, been asking you for opinions and feedback .

Truth is 99.9 percent of the time you may not see my works, it may be deleted after reading or without being opened. But it that portal of connection that opens everyday to .1 percent of people that makes this excercise worthwhile.

Close to 1000  people over 5 years have been a part of this ritual of being Pungidasa.

a sincere thank you to you for all the help, feedback.

And after so much spamming , if you still have saved my number, it must be a miracle in itself.

To grammar Nazis, the anti spam squad, the "shit poem" enthusiasts , this post is inspired by you !

I am Pungidasa, the word without a definition.
Feel free to define me in your words.

A selfie with God

A selfie with God !!!!

If you are an Indian , then you most definitely have met God.

We all are spiritually inclined , it is something that has some up as a way of life. Since day one , I was told that I was god's gift.

So I wondered if all those who gifted me on my birthday were God sent messengers, because by then I knew God could never be fellow humans. That is the wisdom that has come through the ages.

By the time I was mad , I had developed a sense of distinction between spiritual and the religious, ritual and tradition.

But to the outer world I am still a Legendary follower of faith. Because they assume that it I am so.So I keep it that way.

And everytime I see the world in my green eyes, I am amazed at how people are pulled to the idea of the "fear of God" and sometimes how blind their faith following is.

And then I met this herd of people who came to the temple, stood in line for considerable time and then finally when the doors of sanctum sanctorium opened

They opened their fancy phones and started to take in the essence of the divine, by taking a selfie with God. And then the others who had not the luxury of Selfie camera took God's profile picture in their phones with such Bhakthi that I had to bow my head in reverence.

And a lot of times , my mother tells me that these observations of mine correspond to the hot blood syndrome.

But then I have found solace in my definition of god. In helping people in need.
But when the extent of modern bhakthi comes to the fore I tend to forget all manners and put my purple tongue out and start my rants of sarcasm.

And then they decide to post the divine selfie.

And my hashtags be like :

#god #observations #divine #selfie #hotbloodsyndrome #blessings #checkin #moderndays

And their hashtags be like:

#selfieboss #feelingblessed #selfiewiththeboss #godisgreat

Say your prayers that someday, we will have God on Facebook, Instagram and other social media ....

And you can tag , comment and share your way to glory.

Sorry

There are somethings that stay with you for a long time.

It was a picturesque day that brought pilgrims from everywhere to visit the sanctum sanctorium and seek the blessings of the Almighty.

I was there on along of my grandparents, doing a little grandson work for the pair of love birds. Who says love needs youth. They still held hands when they dipped their hands and legs in the river.
My hawk eyes were zoomed in on their heroics and they safely negotiated the water , the steps and then the safety of my temple.

It was my turn and they got to repeat all the words, instructions and warnings that I had just minutes before told them.

And then I treaded carefully along the steps. There was so much of activity everywhere, prayers being told , men dipping themselves in the holy water of the river , women too joining in the religious rituals, the bells of the temple going off in the distance and the faint fragrance of bhakthi that stayed in the air like a mist.

I happened to find a small spot alongside a family of four.They too were immersed in their acts of purification. The man of the family dipped himself into the river and came out unfazed.
The wife had the little one in her arms, the kid seemed absorbed with his own musings.

This is when it happened. The lady decided to spray the holy water onto her son and slipped.

The collective gasp of everyone standing was heard , the shouts of panic were heard everywhere. The lady was sinking into the river, but miraculously she kept her hands above the water and held the symbol of her motherhood high in the air, just high enough to keep the baby safe.

She gasped for air once , then went in again and bobbed her head twice; all the while desperately holding her kid in the air.

The man jumped into the river and grabbed the kid and reached the safety of the steps and handed over the kid to the grandmother.

He jumped again , this time he returned with her.
They ran to her kid and she hugged her child. He hugged her and the I could clearly hear her say.

"Sorry."

And then the grandma said something.

The man stepped in and said something that silenced the scene, they moved away content that God had saved them that day.

But that sorry had so many layers.
Her voice shook with so many emotions.

She blamed herself,
Her stupidity.
Her ability to forget her own life and keep her flesh and blood afloat.
Her husband's​ nerves of steel,
The faint gratitude that the family was still intact.
Then the realisation of the events that could have occured and the shudder of her shoulders.

It was all carried in that Sorry.

Thank you Friend

It is always like that. Sometimes you lose friends. Sometime you know you were never friends.
Sometimes you tend to extend someone a little more time and space because they are friends.

What you see as betrayal , attitude can mean entirely different, when you see it from their perspective. (That
Is if they let you be in their shoes ).

I have this notorious habit that follows me everywhere I  go.I tend to make friends with friends and their friends and their friends and thier friends' friends.

It so happened that I was a very fiercely guarded man when it came to my emotions , very few ever got to know me in complete mental detail as this random person who I met at a friend's bday celebration.

It was then still Orkut time. no facebook , no selfies, no whatsapp but only infused with the power of scrapbooks ,mutual friends and at times messages on the phone I really hit it off.

I had found a friend, with whom I could talk all random non sense and get away with. She was an amazing listener. I had just about opened up like a Pandora box.

Talking to her had a very real vibe, a genuine sense of connect.we had become really good friends. At least that's what i thought.

We had our exams coming and during exams she was excommunicado from the whole world.

It was one of those most important phases of educational life and the next day was my math CET. I had prepared well and was almost asleep at ten.

That's almost when the call came, she sounded hysterical, she was in panic mode. She was in tears, telling me that she would flunk the exams, her math was weak, her scores would plummet and she would miss her dream college.

And I woke up, I don't like people calling me at 12 to wish on my bday. I like my beauty sleep.

But I took this call, from 10.30 to 1.00 .

It took a lot of convincing, hearing things out and a few tricks exchanged to really understand. After almost three hours , phone currencies exhausted , hand held device charge depleted, she had almost calmed down from the hysteria and the panic.

It felt good that out of all friends , she had called me.
It just escalated our bonding to another level.

We met a few times and I was sure that we would be friends for life.

I loved food, she prepared amazing food. I liked to talk and she liked to listen.

And then as suddenly as our friendship had blossomed it hit a dead end.
We joined our separate colleges, separate branches ,made new friends. And poof , like Houdini our friendship vanished.

No traces of the old charm was left, I was left thinking , what did I do wrong?.

And then after some years , we met on social media, there was Facebook , WhatsApp . But even there that spark of excitement was missing.
After ten days there would be a reply to a hi.
Twenty days later, a wassup.
All the while the news feed had selfies , group photos and luncheons with new friends.

And somewhere out there in the wilderness of Facebook history I let go of the last strands of friendship and memories.

I don't know why. It just happened.
And I let things be.

After all friends need to give space , friends are to be understanding.
Maybe I was too dumb then, and she was simply responding to my initial texts because of pity, she heard my stories due to boredom. I don't think it was the case though but
I really don't know why .
Not that it matters now.

But I want Thank you for an experience, you were there at a time when I was expanding my thought horizon as a young kid. You heard me out and let me be.

And then you found new friends and so did I. In the prospect of the universe there is no loss , there is no gain.

We will continue to be friends on Whatsapp, facebook, instagram and other social media jargon.

I have always wanted to thank you, for being there as a friend and being a dynamic in influencing how I see people today.

It was then that I learnt that everyone has their reasons to why they do ,what they do.(They don't have to tell it to anyone).

And sometimes you have to see from another perspective and respect other decisions and move on with life.