p for paradox.

"I'M SIGNIFICANT!!!…screamed the dust speck."

Archive for the month “March, 2012”

when

 

those times
trying to take whatever life gave
and trying to keep everything life gave
but such clutter

waiting for the day to forget fear
and finding the order in the chaos
changing the devil to the dream-saint

when we stop thinking with the brain
and happiness is a hug
not just a bottle of champagne

when loving isn’t wanting
and whispering a thank you isn’t hard
not haunting

when alone is not lonely
but a feeling of joy
when embracing is the one and only

when two souls feel exactly the same
not say, not do, not think
like the pawns in the chess game

when we stop being bad to make a mark
and differences make us grow
and a smile glows in the dark

who said ramblings had to have a sequence

So what do you really write about when you don’t feel like contributing to the weekly linkies or no rhyme is humming through your mind and not much pessimism haunts you to resort to ‘vent out’-writing. Plus you cannot sleep. Thought of putting in some effort in archiving about the places I have visited in the last year. So a good starting point was to look at the huge database of pics and recall the vacations? Well, not exactly – just ended up spending an hour browsing through the flashback jpegs and well, smiling.

Feel like the chill in the air has subsided suddenly. Almost in a gap of a few sunrises. The winters kindof ditched the Dutch this year. Not that I had any inclination towards snowmen, though honestly I find them cute. And anyways I am happy driving to and fro office when there is still a dig at the sun. It was just yesterday when an overcoat was the second skin when stepping out. Now it feels like over-weightness. Or maybe its just me! 😀

football – europe – lounge – ‘nutrition’ and a packed stadium. super! good yesterday!

have taken up such a tough painting to work on that i almost feel like trying to pass a keep-your-cool examination. its taking ages to work on an inch of the canvas, maybe i am working too hard on it. too hard to even let the efforts show in the end.

need squash.

“there is a wind behind every one of us that takes us through our lives. We never see it, we can’t command it, we don’t even know its purpose. I would have stayed among you longer, but that wind is taking me away.”

questions…

…on the history of honesty.

Was honesty about saying the most candor things, or just not remembering the lies?
Was it about feelings, or about scoring?
Was it about the convulsion of candidness, or finding loopholes in lies?
Was it about integrity, or honor?
Was it about following the rules, or breaking them if you thought they were misleading?
Was it about being blunt, or sweet?
Was it about the benchmark of a loyal lover, or that of a kosher king?
Was it about virtue, or vice?
Was it about not lying, or not deceiving?

Was it, all along, about how honest you are with those blood cells zooming inside you, or what those people think about you?

Few days back, I read somewhere that we are living in what is called as the ‘post-truth’ era. Humanity is ignoring honesty like an old software on the pc. But how was it back then? When I wasn’t born? The time when my grandparents hadn’t even met each other. Was honesty as (un)habitual as it is now? Or maybe, the distinction between truths and tales just got dazed.

Because, as Winsty put it, it is a fine thing to be honest, but it is also very important to be right!

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Encouraged by the prompt ‘Honest’ @ Sunday ScribblingS!

abstract, who me?

It’s not an unfamiliar tickle of random thoughts. When all she hears from her restless senses is to do ‘something‘. “How aimless could you get?” she blurts.

The feeling of just being a minuscule soul in the cosmos holds her back, almost seizing her thoughts. Suddenly shooting her capabilities down to a level of inept. Making her indifferent. Indifferent to the world, indifferent to herself. She is reminded of a time when she loved everything abstract – art, writings, love or just plain conversations. That was the time when abstract meant deviant. And deviant meant fun. Maybe queer. Maybe eccentric. But definitely reminding her of her(once-upon-a-time)self.

She wonders when and why do wavelengths match. Shouldn’t they just swoosh past each other and penetrate into infinity? And not take birth again in the form of trivial lessons of wisdom? Who set a benchmark for wisdom anyways? Where was the line drawn between sense and ignorance? Why did they say she is distracted when all she was, was curious. And well, who decided what sanity would look like?

The appetite for obscurity remains. The hunger for subtleness lingers. She smiles as the mind ponders over the repartees and re-repartees of life.

My inner voice says these are trivial issues. My mom, though, thinks otherwise.

Is it too abstract? Or is it just me?

Encouraged by the prompts ‘Deviant’,’Minuscule’ and ‘Trivial’ @ 3WW!

adventure

it’s art. it’s acumen. it’s adventure. and the adventure is not in knowing the place, but the new me when i return from that place. i may be a totally edited version, or a lucid form of me. but i want to be an authentic one, whichever way it is.

i want to experience the magnetism, not the glamour.

i want to encounter the emotions, not the expressions.

i want to endure the fear, not the chaos.

i want to elude the map, not the identity.

and so the search began, for a new adventure. a new place. a new me.

Image

Encouraged by the prompt ‘Search’ @ Sunday ScribblingS!

just one wish, eh?

they say don’t think much
but tell me,
how would I wish if I did not think
and how could I have just one wish
it alters with every blink

but still I wonder
if I could have just one…
I wish I was the camera
capturing life in an era
creating experiences
with the crowd and without
zoomed in and zoomed out.

but I think more
and if it was only one I had
I wish I was the coffee mug
the best perk next to a morning hug
letting you open your eyes
to the beautiful bundle of bliss
this place called Earth is

but I have to dig harder
because its only one that I have
and I wish I was the bookrack
like years of travel in a rucksack
holding a zillion pounds of wisdom
and tales and fables
a learning that only change is stable

and then I see outside
and the inner voice reminds me I could have just one…
so I wish I could be that snow flake
falling and flowing just for existence sake
at so much peace with itself
all delicate and light
embracing the loop of life in the purity of white.


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Encouraged by the prompt ‘If I could have just one wish’
http://carryontuesdayprompt.blogspot.com

drink-a-song

doooo bee doo bee doo
yeah yeah I see you
with a beer in one hand
and your fate in another
grains of slipping sand
sitting alone totally concealed
but hey
you move with the beat in a funny way
like that scarecrow in a windy field

la la la la la
never say Hasta Manana
ços tomorrow is not there yet
life is all about today,
placing in this moment, a risky bet!
So drink with me to days gone by
hey you
yes I am talking to you
stop treating yourself like a house fly

ting-a-ling-aa-ling
yes I believe you can sing
life is a karaoke night
the lyrics are right in front Read more…

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