Butterfly Women LOST

A black leather wraps her.
She huddles up in the shadow
shouting out her presence.
She is hidden.
They will not find her
 untill she appears.
They will not perceive her
 untill she breaks out.

She searches herself and found
courage and strength.
She collected them.
Collected every iota of them
And waited for the flee.

She hardened her body and soul
to cope up with the cold world.
The moon and stars are already out
to watch her debut.
Now it's the cocoon that she has to break

Her ugliness is gone.
Her fatness of youth is gone.
Her gluttony of the past life is gone
The blemish of her former life has metamorphosed

Now she is clean
a new being with a hardened skin
a new being with a hardened soul
 is born.
Her fear is lying there
shattered as her cocoon
memories of that past will soon be cast off

Shouts erupt from below.
Bright beams to highlight her
She stands multicoloured
Beautiful
With translucent wings
that filter the light.

The winds dried her wings of all the past.
She flapped her wings absorbing the music in the wind.
To fly
To sail
To flutter and glide.

But.
She
F
E
L
L

in the twisty nets and wires laid by men
to trap her
ensnaring and scratching her hardened skin
Translucent wings of freedom torn in the brawl.

Now she can't walk nor crawl
nor fly high in the sky
She struggles and fights for freedom....
and perishes among the nets and wires

Thought she could fly
High in the sky
Fly past the past
But.
She perishes in the twisted net....

How many butterflies
yet to be perished
in the nets of men?




I wrote this poem in memory of the Delhi gang rape victim. I wouldn't get out of the depressing news even now......

Written By

I am searching through my thoughts
For a little spark to write on
a little spark to help me dream on
to give this life a reason
And
here I am scribbling away the thoughts
that refuse to come alive

Try as I might
words are struggling to come out
They are neatly bottled up inside
causing a traffic jam

And with all these things inside....
my pen refuses to write
warns me of the dangers of letting my thoughts out
And I struggle to pen the words

While I am struggling to write I ask
what's the reason that forces me to write?
It's my heart that compels me
whispers "write it down, write it down"
along with the beats
The truth has to be out
who but you to do it.

So I continue to write
even if the words fail me
even if the rhyme fails me
even if my pen refuses
I will continue to write....
The truth has to be out somehow....

To a squirrel

Come play with me
Why should you run
through the shaking trees
As though I 'd a gun
To kill you?
when all I would do
Is to scratch your head
touch your tail
and let you go.....

I am in need of a music....

I am in need of a music
that could soothe my heart,
that could flow
over my quivering finger
over my tranquil lips.
A melody so deep and transparent
rich and empty
resounding and liquid-slow.
Oh! For the healing it renders
crafed gently by a resonant voice
that touches my soul.
With lines to make me
see light in music
and music in light.
Of some song to rest the tired dead
to flow over my spent limbs
and make my dream blush!

There is a magic made by music;
A spell that lifts you to the clouds
A spell that makes you fly
A spell that creates rest and restlessness.
Heart, sinks in the magic of music
immersed in the turquoise blue of the water
in the stillness of the sea
rested in the arms of rhythm and cadence
and makes me sleep after a catharsis
as a mother.
                 -Vivedha

Safeguarding India’s ancient wisdom

India has a wealth of traditional knowledge and resources. How shall we protect them from infringement and theft? The Traditional Knowledge Digital Library (TKDL) been able to check the piracy of ancient wisdom related to medicinal plants cost-effectively. Other developing countries whose traditional knowledge (TK) is being plundered want to replicate the idea.TKDL, a collaborative project of the Council of Scientific and Industrial Research and the Department of Ayurveda, Yoga and Naturopathy, Unani, Siddha and Homoeopathy, is situated in Ghaziabad, U.P.Biopiracy, or misappropriation of TK is rampant, not just in India but in a host of countries rich in bioresources across the African and Latin American continents. The TK of 110 developing countries is vulnerable to theft and capture.

This knowledge, found in Sanskrit, Tamil, Malayalam, Kannada, Arabic, Persian and Urdu texts, is inaccessible and incomprehensible to patent examiners overseas, even to many in India. The focus of TKDL was on breaking the language and format barriers by scientifically converting and structuring the available TK in IPC.

TKDL protects about a quarter million Indian formulations culled from our ancient texts. Now it also includes videos of the most common yoga postures. This is a response to the national furore over the increasing number of patents being granted in the West for yoga exercises.

The Hindu : Opinion / Open Page : Safeguarding India’s ancient wisdom

Through Someone Else's Eyes

On a horrid summer's day I secluded myself away
Only to be drawn out to the light by nature at play
A Butterfly sailed peacefully and made me envious
with its elegant dance entrancing the innocence in me.

The butterfly came fluttering carelessly
Came gently around me with the breeze
She sat on the smooth petals of a flower
Moved from one flower to another gracefully

When she drifted near me close enough to hear
I said I would love to fly with you
And sail away around, like you
It looks like so much fun

But alas! I don't have your graceful charms
Nor the beautiful wings, just these two arms
are all I have got, designed to walk around
My human feet must touch the ground

Then she spoke to me through her mind mysteriously
And told her wish

She said I would love to walk around all day
Just walk on God's Earth with you
To squish it's mud between the toes
And touch my nose with my fingers

I'd love just once to walk around
with human feet to touch the ground
But all I have is these wings
Nor the legs that swings and long arms with fingers

And we went our separate ways
In wonder and surprise
For we both have seen God's precious gift
through someone else's eyes.......
                                       -Vivedha

Inspired by a true incident.Some of the lines in the poem are from the poem that I read some time back..:)