Thursday, January 14, 2016


'Hireath' is a word I newly learnt. It means "homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the last places of your past".

I just finished reading " The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran. It is one of the most acclaimed literary giant ever written. The reading was an act of mindfulness for me. Those 3-4 hours that I read this book were reflective, contemplative and unencumbered. I am left with such a pleasant sense of being. A certain peace has washed over me. Is it the prose poetry, my most favourite form of literature that affected me? Or was it the effortless philosophy rendered in the most naturally possible simple way?

This reading took me to places of deep conversations I've had with strangers. To the sweet pains of the failures I've had. To the humbling life lessons I've endured. To the lost love and care of close ones. To the bliss I obtained by sharing laughter with children. To the friends who travelled long paths beside me. To the gentle warmth of my beloved and to his irrational ways too. To the irksome thorn of societal conventions, to the callous religion and the tender humanity.

Hireath is the word that I'm left with. This book took me through moments of intense mindful awareness. I cannot say what really stuck me about the book. It just flowed. It's one of those books you read only to realise you've known this all throughout and that the poet/writer gave ink to your thoughts.

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