The Embrace

“Show it some mercy, it’s burning in flames

The skin of all hopes is melting;

tell me out of this what do you gain?

Shower it with some relief; it’s scorching under the sun

The soothing peach color has turned into brownish red

Tell me how do you plan to resist your misdeeds’ brunt?

Oh well yes, I’m, talking about myself in third person

That’s because you seem to have some grudge against me for some reason!!”

You see, for an artist, stage is a temple, and performance worship

So this pain that I have been talking to, who has got the stage, does not leave

And I tell it that it has to go away

And I have tried to convey the message, but it simply pays no heed

Yes, it swirls around my bed across the hall of nothing

And the dryness in my eyes

tries to sip its beauty and wrath

The tears entering in my ears cheer its performance

But the curtains have to be drawn, and as I doze

This pain, not giving up, then sits next to me, and waits, swinging to and fro….

I do get some relief while I sleep

And I wish the consciousness won’t greet me again

But I guess even if all the wishes would wish for the same

I would still be made to open the door to the pain

And with a smile on my face

To respect the piece of art that pain puts up with such grace

So I decide, why should I fear the fate

Instead I should join the beauty that has come to my gate

and be the excited audience it deserves to have

So with pricked ankles and bare face

And non fancy fabric in which I’m draped

I give it a standing ovation and clap

As if I were standing in the meadows amidst the colors

that are waiting to be refilled, to be shaded darker

Finally overwhelmed by the response, it embraces me with grief

But my suffering then escalates, after all this is the closest I’ve got with the pain

But then satiated with the response, for a while it takes a break

and the needles are plucked out of my veins

I then bid it a good bye with a sad rendition

It leaves but with a bonding condition

That I shall always cheer for every beauty that I come across

I say ‘yes’, immediately, although with the premonition

That it will be back for the greed of applause

Or perhaps, my pessimism is ballooned

and optimism simply pricked and flawed..!!

image source: http://good-wallpapers.com/abstract/1778

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

I’m sitting in my room at the behest of my laptop and reading blogs and wondering what can I write about…I’m WONDERING……

…..still thinking….

                         …..and my doubts about my cognitive abilities are ballooning….

                                                                                       ……and it doesn’t seem to explode….!!!!

My mind has been fecundated with a potpourri of  social, political, economic, religious, philosophical cum personal (my favorite) topics. But now the whole act of harvesting the information in the form of discussions has simply become trite…!!! Or may be now, my situation is synonymous with the one wherein I get bored of ‘Hakka noodles’ ( a Chinese food) and need  ‘Dal-chawal’ ( an Indian bread:a pulses-rice meal) instead!!! 

There is so much to write about…I can be as loquacious as possible when it comes to discussions…but I’m so fed up with all the topics getting zeroed in on corruption, law and order problems in our continent and other continents of this world…Why have people ceded to talk about their lives and the common frames and templates that our lives share? 

When it comes to discussing my personal life, the topic most of the times gets digressed to now quotidian debates revolving around our beleaguered world…!!!

 And so eventually, all I get in the name of main course meal as food for thought is a bowlful garish salad made of prosaic topics.

 Well…. I so very much miss my college days when I could talk about all and sundry ranging from trivial incidents that marked our days to all kinds of get-together  or our exaggerated love lives full of innocent crushes we boasted of, and the list goes on ………………………..

 So now all the memories of the yore, as if waiting in ambush, capture me again, and I being always unprepared capitulate to the mercy of voluptuous times that provide my favorite food for thought…!!!...

So before I go back to the salt-mines, someone please, just provide me with some abstract topic so that I can willfully spread my views across the table, enjoy the treat and gratify the gourmet in me…..!!! 


Image Source: http://www.cravingchocolateandlazydays.com/category/food-for-thought/

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A Brook of Paroxysm..

SO, It tickles in your stomach

It can happen to either a genteel or a pervert…

You try hard to get your lips together

But your teeth show in full glory irrespective of their color

Your mouth seems to be stretched in an irreversible manner

Your eyes now squeezed generate unnecessary tears

But it keeps increasing to a level till you would bear

The effects are  heart-warming at times or grotesque in nature

After it , you yourself might feel high or chagrined by your skewed behavior

 No, no its not what you thinking if you’ve a pervert mind, my dear

The mask of soberness in front of people that you wear

Gets pellucid for a while making the underneath-true-face glare

It can be a cry of that child inside, with your age that sears

Or an outcome of a celebration with five glasses of beer

Or a feeling of missing good-times while bad-times that you endure

and while you're deluged in it and cannot complete speaking a sentence

You splash it onto the other person trying hard to fill in the missing words..

Your mind now wondering for a moment if really human nature is so weird

To this question and the question throughout the poem that lingers

“What is it??” some might be asking , though it must have been deciphered by the clever

So It is the best medicine as opined by people of all generations

Lets make our lives beautiful with the little things we possess without the need to earn them

As, Life Allows Us to Garden our Hearts with a Tub of water from the Endless River of Laughter…

And yes, yes..It is the Laughter..!

Image source: http://forum.rogerdavies.com/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=76

DREAMS PRODUCTION

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I’ve a myriad of stories which have the potential to form plot for movies; and how do I’ve them?? Have I plagiarized or used some stealthy ways to possess them??..

Well to your relief, the answer is no and that the source of these stories is the home production of my dreams which manufacture them regularly without fail, unperturbed, even by gazetted holidays and Sundays…!!!

Where do these dreams emanate from?...and above all who produces and directs them…

I was in a teaching profession some time back and yesterday I had seen a photo of, Madhuri Dixit, a famous  Indian actress, in a newspaper. The photo kind of seeped in through my dreams yesterday night where the actress had metamorphosed into a teacher for class 9 and 10^th ( I know her fans would kill me for such a transmogrification). Also she applauded me for training the students while I tried hard to control my self-conceited smile….!

Here, another one goes……

I’m a die-hard fan of the series ‘Friends’ and inevitably of Jennifer Aniston who therefore got ready to act in a whodunit kind of movie directed by my dreams in which her skin was peeled off by  a female villain and was then permanently masked (somehow) with a look alike of the villain by the villain herself. The villain then goes off to lead a separate life to carry out, clandestinely, various kinds of illegal ventures. Meanwhile, the ‘Aniston’ (who has a visage of the villain) leads a happy married life, in place of the villain, with the villain’s family. In the climax, the villain returns and asks for her family back from the ‘Aniston’ (I don’t remember why!!)… To make it further grotesque, it also involved a whole lot of eldritch characters fittingly embedded in the mesh of ‘the murky movie’.

‘WOAH…!!!...’

And that was the exclamation I gave after I rose from the dream I was deluged in ….

What I don’t understand (among many other imperceptible things regarding the vague dreams) is the basis of casting in our dreams. At times, in my dreams, I act with a different face. While in others I’ more of a spectator. And in few, I participate both as an actor and a spectator( sounds ridiculous, I know!!). But I’m sure this happens to many other people too( those who can recall their dreams!). There can be a lot of mixing of names and faces, places and events, in one’s dreams.

Apropos of my dreams I can readily deduce that whatever our senses perceive from our both exterior and interior worlds in our day to day life, involuntarily get registered in some corner of our minds in an esoteric way, which then concatenate in our sub-conscious domain to concoct completely extraneous dreams which I must say are not completely illogical in nature but if implemented in directing a movie might be a success…!!!!...

I also read in an article recently that according to some researchers, remembering dreams increases one’s memorizing abilities. I wonder how true is that. Though, I’ve tried to search some e-books on ‘understanding or decoding Dreams’, but couldn’t find a good one (an understandable one!)

So, I would have loved to ask, "If anyone knows something about the whole intricate process of Dreams Production, please do shower me with the insightful information…!"; but then I read the following saying that reduced my keenness for understanding the imperceptible dreams.
 

"Those dreams that on the silent night intrude, and with false flitting shapes our minds delude ... are mere productions of the brain. And fools consult interpreters in vain."

                                                                                                                                   -JONATHAN SWIFT





IMAGE SOURCE: http://www.viceland.com/music/2010/08/really-weird-dreams/

Symphonies-Loved or Illegitimate…

As the fat walls hug you in the lazy afternoon

and no one hears you humming the loud music playing in you earphones

For few moments you ride high on the stout waves of drumbeats

before a  tune strikes you and you pause the music…everything coming to a standstill

You stare impassively at those walls now

as if playing the ‘Game of Statue’ with them,

Now who’s to say ‘Start’, when like walls, you become flabbergasted

Your competitor, the wall,  remains still, but a heartbeat of yours can’t be omitted

So while you lose another childish game, you remember the lost battles of your lifetime

You’ve stopped the music, but the time would stop for no gold no dime,

So you keep sitting fixed onto your bed

In your mind hundreds of times you’ve fled,

and feel the pain in your feet that turned stones red as they had bled,

whilst in the background the same meddlesome music being played……

This powerful can the music you hear be……….

And you’ve to be careful as it makes you climb a tree…

coz it can break your joints if you don’t know how to step your feet back onto the ground

Or else repeatedly falling off the favorite colorful tree, would aggravate the deep blue wound

But I guess, it must be like smoking or other kinds of addiction

Where you stand by it vehemently expecting some kind of exaltation

Or like while flying a kite, your spirits also with which soar,

for which you can stand barefooted on the hot terrace  with your slashed finger ignored

Or like speeding a bike on a long forlorn dusty road,

You cut the air with a countryside/rock music’s blade 

Unperturbed by the palpable dangers clouding around you like a swarm of bees

This stentorian that music can be………

But if it rains how many times do you fear cold

and refrain yourself from sprawling out and getting chilled in downpour

You breathe in the music, as we exhale it in our actions,

The music calms us while at times we fall in for its pretensions,

So we unconsciously stand, as if standing in between a rock and a hard stone

In the case of which it’s better that we sit and enjoy the unpredictable outcome

Either we may live the epitome of our fantasy world

Or we scathe our time by unfolding the fears that were earlier bundled

The feelings that emanate are either like dew drops dripping off the fresh leaves palmed by thirsty ground,

Or it may be grotesque like blood gushing out of a cut throat or a noisome wound

Such are the contrasting outcomes of music that we hear

We taste it, we ravish it, at times we even spew it out

But then we consume it like food, like water, like life

This music dutifully walks along with us, like our life’s wife

Whom we can’t abandon, whose presence in our world is simply ubiquitously rife…!!

Image link: http://www.worldgallery.co.uk/art-print/Symphony-in-Red-and-Khaki-II-21667.html

Commas in the Beautiful World,,,

First of all, to all those who have been reading my blog posts and might have mulled over the blog title, A Little of That in those commas, at some point of time or the other, perchance, I owe an explanation for the same….!!!

What are commas for?

What are these?

Well as per my perception, they are those beautiful curves which beg us to take short breaks or else bear the consequences. These are those little speed-breakers on streets, roads, and highways in the context of literature. Literature somehow has also been an area of high magnetic field in my life. Metaphors, personification and similes have always attracted me because you can compare anything with everything in this world and also out of this world.

And so I can compare our lives with paragraphs; our daily lives with lines; and those little breaks that we take in our daily lives to think from sensible things to absolute rubbish things, with commas.

Well, as I said earlier, commas are supposed to be short brakes, but I kind of enjoy them, and so for me, they last for a little longer durations (after all, I know, I am going to have a long life!!).

 Just like today, when I was supposed to work for a project, I rather chose to listen to cold play (my favorite music band) and it took to me to a different world.

 My favorite number from the band is a song titled beautiful world. There are other masterpieces that the band has gifted its fans, but this particularly is my favorite because it neither makes me happy nor makes me sad. It seems as if the band while composing the song thought of something like; let’s go to the outer space and mimic our lives in the form of music for two minutes. In two minutes it manages to touch all the chords of my senses as if finger-tipped all the moods that I can go through and all the emotions that I can feel, to make me aware of all of these. So basically in the end it makes all kind of forces act upon me and in the end I don’t know what the result is! All I know is that within the two minute frame, the time realized a change of momentum. And then I get pulled by the invincible force developed around me to relish all those moods and emotions again.

It is like a word that fills up blanks in any incomplete sentence. The song somehow just fits in each phase of my life.

.

And so every time I listen to it, it makes me realize this is how life is; it just goes on with no defined breaks or moods, but with commas. It goes on with intervened vicissitudes accentuated with low and high tempo or absence of it in the song. For instance, we usually follow a normal mundane daily routine but sometimes our days get highlighted with special moments or times when we could imagine a different instrument or a set of instruments being played in the background. But in the end does it leave you with an entirely different mood?

 At the end of the day, we neither feel high sense of elevation, nor do we feel terribly depressed. This is what happens most of the times. It just goes on…..nothing really changes…Time has got a unique property, i.e., at the end it neutralizes everything…

 I remember, in the second year of my college, when for the first time I started traveling long distances, on my own, I used to listen to the song again and again on my walkman (those were the times of technology backwardness). I used to keep rewinding it to understand what exactly the song was doing to me. All I knew then was that it seemed that the song was being played in the same rhythm of my life, of my journey.

And even today when I listen to it, it makes me hear my own life. And it does nothing else….

Have you ever come across such a song…let the music player of your mind play it now…!!

Watch the video of 'Beautiful World' ...(also named 'don't panic')..

The Birth of Inspiration(s)

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Do you remember, as children, we were told the so called educational stories of ants and spiders and other big and small animals time and again.

Those stories illustrated the importance and meaning of then mammoth like giant and weighty terms like perseverance, hard work, sincerity and largesse. As children, we were hardly bothered by those aspects (some of us still don't care for these things...!!). There were stories told revolving around a young poor child making big against all odds and others from various mythologies. All of us remember the famous saying, telling how a rope leaves marks on the inner walls of a well when used repeatedly, depicting the idea and extent of practice, hard work and sincerity.

These stories were narrated to inspire us.

Many of us love to read rags to riches stories. ‘Kaun banega Crorepati?’(based on ‘Who wants to become a Millionaire’) got success as it exploited the same unknown, involuntary desire to get inspired. ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ did the same. (There are obviously many other reasons as to why they drank the the glass full of success..!!)

I’m sure that most of us have been inspired by more than one aspects, things or living beings in our lives.

I myself was reading a heart wrenching inspirational story which compelled me to think of one; the Inspiration of my Life. And then I realized that it should rather be, ‘The Inspirations of my Life’!!..

There is a photo of mine framed, hanging on a wall in my room. I must be around ten month old child in that photo which my uncle clicked after I had got up in the morning on a just normal day. I’ve few strands of my hair falling on my forehead with a ‘bindi’ put on it by my mom and so I got photographed while sitting there wide-eyed as if cogitating on something, unperturbed, but not ignorant, looking at a journey to be undertaken………………….

Yes, that photo inspires me. It inspires me to live, to go onto the path I’ve treaded on for so long. As a child I must have got inspired by a motley of things and as a grown up now, I get inspired by that child, by my childhood....

I think that children, in general are the best inspirational subjects around us. The excitement, the enthusiasm, the vigor and the optimism with which they start and end a day is stirring.

 I remember, I went through a bad phase of my life while I was studying in high school. And so one day while I was heading towards my school in a disoriented way, I confronted a child held in its uncle’s arms smiling brightly at me dissipating the clouds of despair that had earlier enveloped me. I don’t remember its face; I never met that child again, but I remember, that child brought the most selfless smile on my face. It was as beautiful and precious as a flower blossoming in a grave-yard.

It roused me because it told me that one doesn’t always need materialistic success in one’s life to be happy. A little thing like an unknown child’s smile can bring that light needed in your darkest hours of your life. It again inspires me to  keep going as no matter what all and howsoever grotesque I might confront ahead, there will be something beautiful that will quench my thirst and rejuvenate me in my life to go on.

Even, nature can inspire us who is a great teacher and arbitrates in her own global language immutably without any discrimination on the basis of culture, caste, creed, country and anything that divides us otherwise.

And when we talk about the nature mother, how can we preclude speaking of our own mothers!! ( In this post, I can write about my mother only..!!!)

She’s not a very educated woman, nor is she the best person to take advices from, but still she’s definitely the most wonderful and greatest person in my life; and she inspires me immensely.

She taught me when she was a novice and I just a kid

She found me when I was lost; and when I was broken, by her I was fixed

She rebuked me and even now she can chastise me without rattling my ego

She removed the dirt from the surface of the picture of humanity,

When inhumanity beleaguered me and I gasped for breath due to the allergy

Little did I know it is for me that she smiles

And then I swore that I would always smile for her and keep the vile off my face

Little did I know that from her I learnt what it is to be inspired

And so I took the blindfold off my eyes, to see and feel the soft grace

So I walk farewelling sunsets behind, and welcoming the sunrises ahead

Treasuring and cherishing everything I can be inspired by…!!!




image source: http://magickalgraphics.com/

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PARALLEL UNIVERSE

                                                              Flames to dust ,Past to existence

                                                                 Iron to rust, gold to pretense

                                                                Time to haste, love to revenge

                                                             Glut to waste, glory to demotion

                                          In my mind all of it piles up to clog the drainage

                                                      Dull isn’t it, is this what you wanted?

                                         To see the nasty peril taking you into its bondage??

I drag my feet against the ground

I dance for the devil anonymous, unaware, like a clown

How many times would you give the devil a chance

It makes a mockery out of your life and you still take it as a prank

Can you not see the face, of course you can’t, you’re blindfolded

A rigid shaft in which your life has already been molded

You cannot see the unseen with your naked eyes wide open

But I see it through my twitched eyes,through the convoluted fiber woven

It is the destiny that arrogates everything we ever own

It is the devil that binds us to our life in this world, whether idyllic or forlorn….

Take me to the first dew, to an early morning rain

The life poured into our bodies cannot be now changed

We can at least adulterate the poison with antidote forced into our veins

Take me to the freshwater of the free spirited river

 flowing ahead of fixated constellations, in an aplomb manner

Our ears benumbed by the blaring sounds of horns

 popping out of the world’s cloak’s every invisible hole

Take me to a sky where chirpy birds glide Higher Heights

away from the black hole, free after scraping the ugly witch’s face full of black moles

Take me to the land shining soothingly with reflection of the moon

We may not live, although we can sojourn in a celestial world,

A terrain no one ever reigned, beautiful with flowers and leaves

We’ll make it true with our efforts solid with determination and soft with dreams

At least, I do get success every time I shut my eyelids when heavy with the burden

I can open them feeling light  in my perfect world which in the real world is seldom

And this perfect world on the other side of my eyes,

slips away from the shackles of my life,

and so I walk into this  PARALLEL UNIVERSE  that I’ve designed,

in which the flame of love lives throughout the time and

Where gold is only the nature of heart of every person here

Where destiny is interdicted and time flows like a perennial river…….