Initially I thought of crafting something creative and jaw-dropping for you, but then I sticked to the thought of simplicity, a letter, with an acrostic.
//S//rupulous attention , an eye of care, with a melange of //A//mbitiousness ,the skill and spirit to reach the Sky //D//estined to unfurl beauty from The Sun's hearth In the garden of melancholy, //R//ampant jolliness in words and juggernaut Optimism in heart, //I//lluminous like a full moon,bright as it is, //T//riumphant in life,in disasters and in mind, Like an //A//glow in the heart of darkness,made to live , Live with mirth ,and contentment...
(My words may not be appeasing enough,but my feelings of gratitude, love , concern and friendliness are much more competent.) This day marks the birth of one of the most significant figures in my life and uk, this month marks our first meet ,our first conversation and first gesture of goodwill towards each other. Life has been very harsh sometimes to you,but the way you withstood those brutal winds of destruction and your capacity to retain a plethora of anguish and disappointment with life,has inspired me deep down so badly that I started considering you as an idol. I've always thought of you as a friend I can always rely on,to share,to gossip ,to nag at ,what not. If @mirakee has given me anything in my life, it's you. Not just an inspiration in life,you inspired me in poetic gesture too. Your skillls at art,poetry,prose ,bg design (a very essential one uk what I mean) all have left me in awe. Your poetries inspired me , prompted me to write more delicately,more effectively. It's not just this all. With you,the passage of time never mattered much, even nothing else much mattered. Those senseless sticker fights, late night gossips , sorrowful stories and ROFL chats never bored me, something that I cherish a lot. Not a day passes, without you, without your talks. We may live miles afar, but it never matters. By the end of the day,I've got someone to talk who never disappoints me. Like some stardust from the eternal world fell over me someday like a blessing in disguise.
You have received bouquets and brickbats both and know the epistemology of life. And hence my confidence in you says that "Every 17th March will mark the birth of a new Sadrita, fierce,bold , independent and more beautiful."
Life is full of disappointments , preceded by disbelieves but always remember that a person with true conscience wins in the battle for survival. Always remain the same,as bright as Sun , as cherry as jasmine, as beautiful as pearls ,as homogenous as yourself. Don't you dare -even for an instant- to think that you don't 'deserve' or need all of the good things coming your way. You deserve the best of everything and shouldn't feel shy to ask for it or welcome it with open arms. May you celebrate all your birthdays with me, virtually or realistically... GOD BLESS ALWAYS.
//"This 16th year of my life was really so adventurous. It was a potpourri of happiness and heartbreak"// ~ SADRITA
Just few days back , I finished reading your debut novel 'The God of small things' ,which you call a semi-autobiographical book. However, I don't care if it's your story or someone else's but the very fact that nearly every fellow Indian can relate to the grass rootedness of your thoughts and ideas makes you the utmost writer. It's a utterly sad story, told very humorously, delicately and craftily. On top of that, you described all the intimate and romantic scenes with sheer beauty and elegance that I nearly ended fantasizing myself over there. Estha asks his mom , "If you are happy in a dream, does that count?", And I immediately raised up and said," If it's for your mom, it definitely counts ." The character of Ammu is the most pitiful and the more I try to understand her, the more I get perplexed. And of course, the twins made us laugh every now and then, in the most grave of situations , with their 'imagination-shaped hole' and hilarious logics. All the characters got equal read-time and the fact that each one of them was empty somewhere made it sound more realistic. You touched upon caste discrimination, politics , love laws (who should be loved, how, and how much) and misogyny, which forms a major portion of your novel so tenderly that we end up seeing them through your point of view. The background setting of Aymenem in Kerala and the lake (where the twists and turns come like winds) and the weather are poignantly described like a poetry . For me , this book was the most significant creation of the century, unlike any other family drama, societal drama or orthodoxy in lives, The God of Small Things , shone with its authenticity and liveliness, encrusting its name on the hearts of all its readers. "The air was full of thoughts and things to say, but at times like this only the small things are ever said. " This quote, to me , means the universe. After reading your book, 'nothing mattered much and nothing much mattered', and my life , all of sudden seemed quite easy-going. Thanks to you Ms.Roy , that I inculcated a new zest in myself towards my life and others...
Yours gratefully •Madhav --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Came back after a long time , just to attend today's prompt. Thank you @mirakee for this wonderful prompt. @writersnetwork , hope you give it a read. #fanletter#wod#pod
Unlike the hot brooding months, Unlike the long humid days, When the gentle half-moons gather under the eyes, When the cologne on cotton wool smells like lilac of springs, When the newly painted churches, Under the snow stand blanc, With drifting clouds getting fainter, As morning mist humidifies the maidens.
Longing for a sunbeam, that leaves too briefly, When the sad priests shiver inside chapels, When the funerals, in January, are least sympathetic When the trees, plants and flowers, All camouflage with the snowdrifted pathway, Appearing inanimate, almost invisible, To an untrained eye.
When the quietness in nature arrives, In January, When rhythms of ancient redolent remnants In their dells of memory, Sing hails of springs and falls. When the soothing smell of old roses on breeze, Faints with days in January. With banks of rivers getting frozen , The resentful older houses giving up on snow, When the greying mornings, And white evenings have no sunrise or sunset.
When, nature has a span short, Yet influence vast. It's January, That timidly pass.
It was your effervescence, That was a suction pull for me, That drove me from infinity to you, That helped me cross intangibility of nature, It was your itch, that kept me on edge, Even after dying.
It was the last walk, Last it is, And the stigma of loneliness it drained, It was the dream I dreamt for days and nights In the obscured death I made.
Was it spring, or was it a summer? I asked often when I passed this lane. The dreary desert it became then, No songs of cuckoo ,no vendors and hawkers But enlivened the dead path your brushing feet, The dust, the pebbles and the lonely trees.
In the deafening silence in the scantness of Sun, While the world rest is off to sleep, It's the tainted heart I carry with me, Till the point I walk to meet, The dead leaves and shattered ones, Knowing that they would curse me, Yet I hope for the soothing voice, To spring up and console me.
Soul steps-out from the ambrosian fields of body, Each fragile petals drip-off from life , i laid tacitly down the cancer ward Death awaited out the door ,and kindly behold through those murky glass Pain termited holistic as, Aura Aromated unanswered medicines , While taking pain killers for soothing others Hour glasses harps aloud, the doomsday rituals, Trying to stoop downward it's sand as to bury heartbeats Immortal reminiscence lingered past veins Death Outlined 'X' mark on the door of life As No Moon ,No Sun could enter, Even Dawn and Dark lefts my vocabulary!
And then Hope whispers the words of W.E Henley “It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”
And when she was born The sky shared the secret with the Mother Earth..... "That we have gifted you our Lil IU, so take care of her"... ________________________________________________________________________________
An apparition in the pink skies Wandering like a Greek Goddess, Wooed by the seven suns, Breathing gentle storms, she Smiles of terracotta mornings, Her hazelnut eyes, A temple of tangerine dreams.
She walks in like a Royal, Bathed in golden showers And blonde afternoons, Leaves twirl like Russian ballerinas And fall to the ground When she's around, Sunlight warms up her toes And the earth blush in coral hues, Isn't she a wonder, The little muse of October fever Mysterious like midnight, Soft as a lavender kiss, She's a wildfire, A lament from the heavens, Falling, fading beneath The wrinkles of orange skin, Tranquil pages sigh under her spell, Romancing the skies Like a daydream, She looks like a mirage Dancing with the light in the leaves of time, The earth spreads sheets Of Auburn sunsets Shifting between joy and death, Giving birth to Maple Leaf poetry In memory of her scars and smiles.