My first encounter with the word ‘Wicca’

Is there anyone who doesn’t connect to nature at one point or other in their lives? Does nature have a spirit that draws us to it?

We agree that we have a soul. Everything has one. We just cannot see it. Believing that Earth, Fire, Air, Water and Spirit have soul and praying these elements which have power is the kind of spirituality I get along with. This is the base line all the Wiccans are on (Most of non-Wiccans too).

I don’t know how and why I got encountered with the word Wicca. May be I know how, in literal ways, but I don’t know why. Almost all Wiccans say that we don’t choose Wicca. It chooses us. I don’t know if it chose me or not. I don’t know if what I feel like following could be called Wicca. Because Wicca is not one path. There are just as many types in Wicca as any other religion has. And what Wicca is for one person is not same for other. I don’t know yet if I will call it Wicca. I’m just opening doors to it, if it chooses me. Wicca is not just praying. I found that it is also about rituals to be conducted. I don’t know yet how far I will be willing to go on that path.

There are many who believe that Wicca is just a modern form of ancient Witchcraft and there are also many who think otherwise. As I’ve already mentioned I think Wicca is so diverse that one Wiccan will not always agree with other if they both are not following the form. (Examples of forms of wicca: Gardnerian Wicca, Alexandrian Wicca, Dianic Wicca, Celtic Wicca (Church of Wicca), Georgian Wicca etc.,). In addition to all these types, there are many who follow solitary wicca.

On Feb’21, 2017 I first came across the word ‘Wicca’. I was checking out tattoos and got drifted to Virgo (which I am) tattoos then to mercury planet (Virgo’s ruling planet) symbol then to different symbols to pentacle. I was always interested in symbols and their meanings. So I started reading about pentacle and after few minutes I found myself searching the real meaning of “Wicca”.  

That was when I thought “A part of Wicca is a part of me”. In these three days I have learned a lot about it, about people who call themselves Wiccans and a few who no more call themselves Wiccans. I learned about how Wicca can be used for bad things and promised myself that if at all I am to go on Wiccan path, I would keep my mind and heart open only to good things. Believe me or not I was shocked after seeing the number of people who are following Wicca across the globe.

I came across this amazing Indian, Ipsita Roy Chakraverti (a Wiccan priestess) who, in-spite of many protest movements and boycotts in West Bengal, put all allegations to rest and addressed the media at a press conference. Chakraverti explained to the media the Neo Pagan ways of Wicca and its healing power. She started administering Wiccan ways of healing to the people of India, including traveling to remote villages and teaching the Wiccan way to the female population, several of who were often accused of black magic and "witchcraft" by male folk, and murdered. She released her autobiography “Beloved Witch” in 2003. A second book titled “Sacred Evil: Encounters With the Unknown” was released in 2006, and it chronicled nine case studies during her life as a Wiccan healer and explained why those events happened. Both books received positive critical acclaim.

(Despite of my future with Wicca, I don’t want to forget my first encounter with it. Hence the story.)

Few books I think I am going to read to make myself a bit clear about the word that I may or may not use for my ways:

Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner

by Scott Cunningham

Living Wicca: A Further Guide for the Solitary Practitioner

by Scott Cunningham

Beloved Witch: An Autobiography

by Ipsita Roy Chakraverti

Sacred Evil: Encounters With The Unknown

by Ipsita Roy Chakraverti

SOUL OUT OF CAGE -3!

SOUL OUT OF CAGE 1

SOUL OUT OF CAGE 2

(Cont...)


I flew, oblivious to where I was headed. It was as if it's very conventional for a soul to wander away. There were these invisible roots which pulled me to their forest of souls. I felt so native despite the unusuality. There were souls of different ages, from different places. All they have in common was that they are all from female cages like me. Some kind of ritual was going on and I stood there watching. The souls were wandering in the streets filled with mirrors, blind to the presence of others. They were stopping by some mirrors which were inscribed with a name, looking into them for a long time, involuntarily letting an emotion skip their stoned faces for less than a millisecond and then advancing on their path.

I was not sure what was happening until a young soul, after stopping by a few mirrors, flew to a mirror with no inscription. Her face was impassive. She spoke to it for a long time. I could not hear what she was saying but I saw her smile. That perky smile turned into hesitation within seconds and then into tears which did not stop for a while. When she was done with the words, she stood there, got back to her original deadpanned state and flew away. I went to the mirror she spoke to and saw that it was inscribed with her name, Urus Kasymbay. Suddenly the reflection of the girl flashed in the mirror. I turned back to see her but she was not there. The mirror started reshowing what the girl spoke a few minutes ago.

"My name is Urus Kasymbay and I remained 19 years old since 2012. My cage was born (and lived till I decided to leave it) in Kyrgyzstan, where almost two thirds of all marriages are thought to be the result of ala kachuu ('grab and run'), or bride kidnapping. Around 15,000 women a year are thought to be the target of abductions by their suitors. I was studying journalism and had a boyfriend. We vowed to marry each other." She smiled but then hesitated to continue. Even the reflection could speak of the anguish in her eyes. "I thought I was lucky and dreamed of bright future until one day a 34 year old stranger decided to marry me. He just Kidnapped me and took me to his home where his parents were waiting to put a white scarf on my head as a symbol my capitulation to his demands. I won't argue that it's their fault as it is the tradition, though illegal since 1994, everyone still follows. I resisted and was finally freed by my family after two days. But no one was happy as once I entered my kidnapper’s home I am considered to be no longer pure, making it shameful for me to return home. So the next day I hanged myself in the backyard of my home." she cried and slowly gained the strength to go on.

"I have sisters in few other areas of the world who succumbed to their fate and agreed to live with their kidnappers. No one would say that all of them are happy but when it comes to their sons, they would do very less to stop him. You would think that these things happen only in some rural areas but I can show you many other cases. In most of these cases kidnappers are almost strangers, they may be many years older than the girl they choose to marry. Girl has to resist not only the man but his whole family and relatives who would grab her and try to wrap the white scarf on her head. There are cases where girls stop resisting after few hours and there are cases where few days pass after which the girls will be sent to their homes. Guardians of the girl would try to get her back home but then it would make her disgraceful. There is a friend of mine who loved a man and he promised her a proper marriage after she gets settled in her life. But in the end he kidnapped her to prove his manhood. She refused for two hours after which there was a white scarf tied stiffly on her head." Her face turned stony and the reflection disappeared.

I finally understood what the place was. But didn't had the strength to go to an empty mirror. So I lingered in those streets and listened to other souls. The forest was like a diary to female cages around the world, every crumbled soul filling a page of it with its story for others to unveil. There are souls like me, whose cages are alive and who would return to their cages someday. I thought of mine, I could still feel her pain and her tears of betrayal. I would return too, Someday!

Happy Women's Day !

(A documentary on Bride Kidnapping)

EVERY TIME I WRITE

Sometimes my mind speaks to me
Urges me to take note of every single word it utters
It speaks when I finally try to
Step onto a new diversion from my path of nothingness

It just wants my attention
And in its favor, I feel like
Throwing away everything I have to do
And write.

This time my heart questions
"What for?"
Nothing really changes when you write
Nothing but the blank pages

A few eyes read,
A few minds understand,
A few lips smile
And? That's it! Nothing changes.

Getting sick of this routine.
Every time I try to find what
My path is, My mind interrupts
"Note it down. This ain't your path."

"Then what is?" I ask
Only to face the silence.
It has no answer
Just an intention to interfere.

It doesn't want to carry the blame
Of wrong decision. And I
Don't want to die on
This unsettled path.

I'm afraid to take a further step
and too weak to take the turn
I wish this path shuts down by itself
And leaves no option except to start over.

Start over I say, again with nothing
Other than a ruled out option in mind.
Where does that leave me? Still
In the face of an infinite options to try.

- Nothing really changes when I write
Except a few blank pages and time.
Nothing really pacifies my mind.

Sweet little rose

Chweet little rose is what I’ve called it a few years ago on 2^nd June 2010. This is one of my 15 year old hand’s writing in 55 minutes as noted. :P 

penciled words are fading :(

P.S: No editing done

In  this  most  beautiful  season  of  spring

Butterflies  come  to  Mom  to  show  their  wings

The  sun  has  just  started  changing  its  color  from  rising  red

And  the  droplets  of  dew  has  waken  my Mom  from  sleeping  bed

All  the  eyes  of  nature  are  waiting  for  my  phlegmatic  arrival

Building  my  confidence, I started  spreading  blossoms  all over

Just  then  came  the  sign  of  well  wishing

Wah!  How  could  this  nature  be  so  caring?

Our  starring  star  is  sending  energy  rays

Speeding  wind  is  accompanying  in  many  ways

Earthly  mother  has  saved  many  for  my  future

Mom  has  started  motivating  as  a  teacher

With  this  I  opened  my  eyes  to  see  myself  in  this  world

Awesome! Because  of  stunning  beauty  I  became  so  bold

Thanking almighty for presenting such a perky life

I end  it  hoping  to  see  smiles  of  love  with  this  line…

Decisions!

How transparent the life would have been

If there were only two peaks-

Yes and No

Without lingering at all these levels

Of turmoil.

I see how indecisive I can be

Soaked up in all half sentences-

Maybe I can. Or I can’t. Can I?

Asking myself again and again

No breakthrough.

  “Disclose and Discern”, people say

It do aid me at times

But

Just as I think and re-think,

I renounce.

As the timer goes down to zero,

I shut my heart and flip a coin

And here

Lands the coin onto my hand

I slip cowardly.

It could be any of "yes" and "no"

For neither is what I want

My choice

Lies buried deep in the past

I regret.

All I need is a little push

To set up my mind and

Walk through

As I have done this long and

Still doing my best, whatsoever.

How frisky my life would have been

"If only I was brave enough

To decide

At that requisite moment."

--The risk of a wrong decision is preferable to the terror of indecision.

Soul Out Of Cage-2!

(post Cont..)

Miracles do happen. Why otherwise would the very people who tried to kill my cage start accepting it the moment Doctors had placed it in their hands. Unconscious smiles stand as a proof of their melting hearts for its serenity.  

3.5 years old: 

Being a soul of one, I am certain that kids at this age are bound to love 2 things.

Stories- which sweeps us into different worlds of our unrestrained imagination and Story Tellers- whose voice help us traverse away from this realistic world and drop at the gates of those realms for us to enter and go as deep as our minds could imagine.

In today's world full of souls busy in money hunting, it is chancy to find one with stories to tell. Fortunately my cage did find one- an uncle (Dad's brother) who visits frequently and who have a lot more stories to share than she could imagine. His crispy voice full of enthusiastic waves and liveliness made her fantasies more realistic that she visualized herself in those stories living in all the beautiful characters he portrayed. She (and I) loved him the most and always longed for him and his stories.

On one party-at-home-night, my cage went to him with obsession for stories. He told a few stories and put her to sleep. She was having a pleasant fairy-land-from-her-stories dream when it suddenly got drifted and there appeared a huge beast, with devilish look in its eyes, which yanked her and clasped her mouth with its big filthy hands. Her dream was so somatic that she could feel the heaviness on herself. Terrified, she opened her eyes to find it wasn't any beast but her uncle who closed her mouth. “Maybe I am talking in my sleep again and he couldn’t sleep. So he is closing my mouth. And maybe he can tell me a story so that I could go back to my dreams- without talking this time and he could sleep” her innocent mind thought and felt relieved for a moment before it went back to labyrinth of thoughts about why he was doing what he was doing. Her frock was pulled up. He was half naked and had the same devilish look, from her dream, in his eyes. She never saw that look on him before which made her heart shrink.

 “I’m dreaming”, she thought and tried hard to wake up. She didn’t like this dream but was not able to shake it off. She tried to scream so that someone would wake her from this horrid dream but his hand on her mouth is so hefty and real that it is resisting her voice from venting off even in the outside world. He moved close and mercilessly forced himself into her. Only then, with that sting of pain did she realize that it ain't a dream. She didn’t want to believe it and hoped that it really was a dream. But it was hard not to believe, with him all over her, behaving so brutally that she couldn’t even think it as something she would dream.

Although her tender muscles strained from trying to get him off her, she kept trying- tried to kick, punch and throw him away. But she was too small and weak to even move under him. His hand on her mouth was so huge that it blocked not only her spurting voice but also air entering her nostrils. She felt nauseous and her body was trembling with both pain and fear. But that monster wouldn’t let go.  

Frankly speaking, I, as its soul have promised that I wouldn't leave something as beautiful as my cage. But that night I tried to, with all my might, to leave. I couldn't bear her struggle, the pain of his grip, the look in his eyes, the strength with which he forced himself into her. I didn't know the physical pain she was in but I could understand. It was crossing its limits and getting transferred into mental pain which I selfishly didn't accept any more. I tried to leave my cage but was not able to.

There was a full length mirror in-front of the bed into which I accidentally looked through her eyes. I could see how torn she was but still striving hard to get free off him. I saw how inhumanely he was befouling with her and me. She was not in a position to take any of it. So was I. “One last time..”, I thought. She closed her eyes so stiffly this time as if helping me. . For a moment she let those past visions pass in-front of her. Visions of her uncle treating her as a princess in his stories and beautiful memories of their time spent together. A tear drop rolled down her cheek. Once she opened her eyes, I pulled myself out and far I went to get away from her bounds. 

I could now see my cage with a brute all over savoring her physicalness. She lay there soulless, bruised and crushed under him- still breathing. 

"Would he have done the same thing if he (accidentally at least) ended up seeing himself over her in the mirror instead of me", I thought and flew away.

That night I understood that apart from people who didn't want to bear a girl, there are people who WANT a girl irrespective of the girl’s relationship to them or their age...Nothing matters as long as it is girl- living or NOT! 

Albeit,

I'm alive...So is my cage.!!

Soul Out Of Cage.!

Hey there!

I play the role of a soul to an obnoxious species on EARTH. I call that species a "cage", while people named it a "girl", "lady", "woman" etc., placing it in all positions possible from respectable mother to cruddy slut. Being hushed for more than two decades, I got pretty bored and got out of my cage to entertain you with few stories.

To start with, I tell you the story of MY cage as I know nothing so absolute than that.

0 years old:

Going back to our embryonic days when I and my cage started taking form, I  had many questions on my mind- What am I? Why am I locked up in something so small? What is it? Why is it changing its size and form?. Frankly speaking, these MIGHT BE the questions I was supposed to have then but I didn't. Instead, I just started living with it mesmerized by its beauty- the beauty of it in silently incarnating for days and months together. "I will never leave something so delicately angelic as my cage", I swore.  

Once, there happened this discussion, in the outside world, whether or not to let my cage live. I couldn't comprehend it at first, but later on I got the hang of it. People out there were not in a stage to accept my cage as one of them as it is a GIRL. They find it alien- and acted as if it was something that would crush them to death. I felt threatened by their thoughts. What will happen to my cage and me in it. Deep inside, I have always felt lucky to have such an alluring cage. Breathtaking sight it is to see it sleep but will I never be able to see those beautiful eyes open? It's perky heart throbbing as if proving the gamut of its cheery life. What will happen to us the next second it stops making that music. Will I be dead too? Or will I be dwelling over it in its germinal parts covered in blood slowly decaying as days pass. Those thoughts introduced me to the labyrinth of feelings I have never felt before- weak, sad, outrage, helplessness, vexation and many more making it hard to discern which feeling first and soothe it. 

For the next few days, I have tried all fruitless feats possible to help my cage live. I tried to wake my sleeping cage but alas! it ain't sleeping. It is still under process of evolution, yearning to step on earth and live contentedly. How lacking is it's state to have any subtle idea of the fatal future people have written for it. I yelled to beasts outside, begged to let us live- all in vain. My cage will prove itself as a promising daughter and I, as a beautiful mind and soul. What else do people want. I even tried to get out of my cage to teach those beasts a lesson. If I were the one on outside, I would never give up on anything that could let my cage live. How helpless we were. Mother's womb ought to be the safest place. But for girls who have an equal right to live, without whom human species cannot exist, who carries in her the future generation in that womb, even it is not the place to live. 

How narrow are the people out there. They need a boy who will earn them a living but don't even give that chance to a girl to prove herself by doing the same. They need a boy to light their pyre which they couldn't even see. And reject a girl, only who have the ability to carry a new life in herself. I feel scared to let my cage step out, if it has any chance at all. But I wish for it to live, to lead a challenging life and change at least one of those beasts outside, into human. I would be there in my cage always trying to change that one beast. We just need one chance- To Live.!

The dreadful day has come. People have decided to murder my cage. I have failed in all my attempts to stop it. Time has come for my cage to get pulled out of its womb mercilessly. I embraced it firmly knowing these are our final moments together. I don't have a slightest clue of what would happen to us later. Our future is a dark room with terrifying doors into which we are supposed to enter without any choice. The process has begun and I could feel the touch of doctor on outside my cage. Few more minutes of life and.....BLANK. Is my darling cage in a position to feel pain? I hope not. I'm not able to bear even the mental trauma. How can it, something so delicate bear physical. "STOP!!... PLEASE. JUST LET US LIVE.....PLEASE.!!!", I shout. But my voice does not even reach my cage. It is still sleeping...peacefully, unaware of its dawning murder.

But to my surprise that touch of doctor ceased and........it-seems my cage grew to an extent that it would harm it's mother if the process continues. 

I'm alive...so is my cage.!