An Author, Poet, Blogger ,Film Producer. A Vocal Contributor and Community Champion in leadership group on Worldpulse, a global platform connecting women across 190 nations.
Also the sub editor of a quarterly Hindi Magazine of National Interest Akhand Bharat Patrika & founder of an all artist's group called Revolutionary Pens.
A joint patent holder hailing from the field of powder metallurgy , love for art has featured poems in numerous poetic anthologies and short stories found way in different e magazines.
As quietly the RADIANCE OF moon PEEPED FROM THE DARK CLOUDS , it was an introspective moment….
The day was full of mundane activities, when chaotic rumbles of noisy surroundings had deafened my ears and thoughts were in a turmoil.
We yearn for silence: each beat of heart counts and tries to camouflage this desire by masks pulled over their faces by societal pressure or hypocritical nomenclature.
Falsity, ego, masks of indifference, inhumaneness, snobbish attitudes, superiority complex, haughtiness…where does all this lead to ? Why the need to mask ourselves every moment, that one tends to forget the real self?
The innocence and simplicity of childhood , the purity of thoughts and true expressions of feelings are all lost somewhere in the storm of desert where people are running after mirage and forgetting the path to the oasis of life.
The resting soul in repose
Which often forget to connect
Then begins the process of initiation
Where we find happiness inside
And seek the divine grace
Years or times unlimited it takes
yet an ephemeral moment can ignite and build the path
to attain consciousness
Whether by cuddling in a corner of home or strolling beside an unknown path which randomly travels to the outskirts of a city, the yearning heart finds solace in quietness of lingering music of breeze or in the rustling of trees or in the moving clouds ,even in dancing waves of a sea. The majestic mountains or even the meadows which run along the hills of freshly emerged greenery embrace us with their quietness.
Sharing something different than the usual writing, a piece of conversation from the long journey of life.
"Let us dare
see the intricacies
love the unique and ponder
watch out differences
glare the common
gaze at the newer
admire the adventurer
idolize the seeker
let us dare to differ
allow ourselves to think,
to know, to understand
to absorb, to admonish
to eradicate our fears
let us learn to invent
to accept the unknown"
- Soumya Vilekar
will it not?
the roadway to the final destination
would carry the fragrance of
soil... dried leaves and the sweat along?
will it spread the nostalgia of sojourn
while the swaying branch bends to
brush the tresses
Will the dust speak of the crimson sunset
floating in the air
or of the wading birds bidding adieu
to lakes and pollen of distant flowers
will the anchor of sail...sing tale
of rough weathers
or the vessel explain the trembles of
would the altar of purpose...
reverberate nuances of the voyage
Breathe then... inhale the redolence ;
...like a feather this
will vanish forever...lost,
in the treading soil
of the travel...
the petals flew with wind
traveling through cedars and hills
the solitary fragrance
invisible , intrigue
retreading the journey
the returning season
in boulevard of memories
finds esoteric nectar ...
lost yet etched
scattered yet embedded
redolence of faith
dispersed in nature....
herein i fortify the roots of nature
ones which need love and affection
in storms whence they stand stronger
deeper to travel more inside the gravel....
roots of life ,
roots of human
ignorance or wisdom
what lies on the layer is superficial
above the ground...the world is so different
the real roots exist and appear....
Tis tough to ev'r know the depth
the ocean where compassion dwells
like sapphire it sparkles in drops
from corner or blade of grass
The roar inside is silenced
by pricks of thorns
or hidden rose branch
...Who knoweth what
lies in conscience...
walkin the way is our aim;
jingles , shimmers
rule the game
free the soul and
finish the task...
whilst the storm had intentions
that were futile
the petals reopened
blossomed in white
the winds had blown shelters of words
trying to ransack whole world...
in morning light
in night mystic
the lone flower bloomed
on the dignified tree
crumpled at times, crushed
inside it pined...
resilience added to the power of victory
truth and immaculateness paved the way to serenity
Nay ! the world doesn't stop
ov'r any shocking blast that silences
the chirping of children or rustle of life
neither if an old soul makes a noose
to end the strife, or forcibly directed on
mindgames or lies
nor if millions have lost the zeal
to keep their jobs live
or striving for a square meal
once a day in time
Nay! nothing shall move hearts
nothing shall deride
The heart nowadays forgets it's soul
whether we are robots or truly alive
In gravels of dust, in handful of soil
we shall unite
through ashes , or remnants of graves
yet forget to keep the zeal of our purpose qui vive.
Tis a long journey
of different milestones
few get tired in miles
a noted count moves ahead
for furlongs until
the peak is scaled with newer heights...
Like the faraway claret coloured sunset
transmuting into a sapphire's blueness
heart flutters in arbitrariness
rushing ache in veins watching flapping silhouettes !
did we ever notice
colours of sky
dance of butterflies
or carpet of pearls
on grasser green ?
Else fathomed ever
the soothing touch
immersed in real essence
A potion of pain
in magical fingers
in an embrace
in a cuddle;
in a pat,
as cure of miseries
respite to griefs
absolution to holdbacks
freedom to recover,
liberty to express,
authority to grow;
yet we forget
diminish our charm
in captivity of limitations
in confinement of materialistic affinities
in detention of superficiality
When shall then clock strike
to wake us from
in cognizance of truth
hearing inner voice?