Silent sighs...

I sit under the shadows...
Dark as the world could get...
Hopelessness is all I forsee as the cold dead breeze sets in...
Positivity is the fools story of cowardice...
Negativity is mere selfishness...
And so I am unsure, what do I choose?
A mortal life tamed and manipulated to be less animal and more human, positive life they call it... And the result, I feel emotions that control me and the truth that dawn's on me that I'm merely a weak speck that can make no difference, oh hell, that's just negetive.
No one's listening... No one's here to hold hands or reassure. They are just stories for the fools.
Oh what I would give to feel nothing and be invisible.
I wish I was not so utterly pressed to assure life is a positive choice over the utterly negetive twists that I repel from.
In silence I set back to the monotony... Sigh...

The Narcissistic Nobles.

Why do we blow our own trumpets?

It’s always a question that concerns me because either most of us are so insecure within our own skin or we are constantly fixating too much on ourselves that we need to assert our prominence.

Whatever the reason be, we really need to listen to us speak or see us in the act of this impeccable display of pretension which I call callous and preposterous. The beauty of a task can be experienced when the result is accomplished not with pomp and show, but with the consequence that now exists because of this triumph.

Although, it has become customary to broadcast even the subtlest of feats, so that the world may know what universal egotists we have grown to be.

In a movie I recently watched, the main protagonist educates how important it is to complete undertakings and not announce it, because the recipient should not feel obligated towards us, for whatever service or support made available. Our parents never made us feel obligated for the number of diapers changed, sleepless nights wasted and an infinite number of other labor that they took upon themselves for our benefit.

Nonetheless, how much of this offence can we burden ourselves with? The culture that we are so close to, teaches us to exhibit ourselves as the most perfect art of narcissism. Our corporate and bureaucratic realms are mostly enslaved by the idea to display and sell people like objects meant for bidding which is a charade, that ironically we are tolerant about and play significant roles in.

Our actions should be applauded, not the hype created about it. And actions that may never be known should construct us as humans that can experience and blossom in the authenticity of new encounters.

As the novelist Graham Greene quoted in the book ‘Doctor Fischer of Geneva or the Bomb Party’ - “He's satisfied with himself. If you have a soul you can't be satisfied.”. So a soul is what we seek for, a Narcissistic Noble is not what we would call upon to be!

The unsaid retreat!

I wish I'd say goodbye!
Another set of reasonings with sigh!
I'd rather just retreat,
Unspoken and unknown why...
It's better to be ignorant,
Neither would know why...
Let's save the farewell,
Lets toast to another travel...
Adieus amigo, for now and forever...

The tree by my window

The time just ticks by...

Rising with the dawn, I set about my routine... accomplish the mundane chores that I embark upon, with no surprise to stir my curious senses. 

And the tree stood still...

A couple of years back, my family lived in a rented outlet that was ideally a warehouse for metals used in construction. Though a small dwelling and mostly over full with company during weekends, we endeared our stay in this very house because of the pleasing garden that my mom had meticulously planned and tended. Succulents to the Australian silver oaks, anything that found the will to grow with mums love and water found its roots within our orchard, which I call with all regard.  

It was time to say goodbye as the small home was to be crumbled down for a more elegant concrete structure, that not only sheltered many more people but filled in the pockets of the rich landlord, who we once shared the custards and tapiocas from the yard. With tears in our eyes and heavy hearts, we moved to our new abode, this time we chose the convenient 'flat'. The only reminder we had of 'our days in the wild' as I call it with fondness, was the tree by my window.   

But we moved on, and eventually we even forgot about the tree by the window. I forgot to listen to the birds chirping, the squirrels noisily scampering about and the whispers from the tree as the breeze swept through the leaves...

It was a warm afternoon, I sat by my bed and looked out. There stood the tree with no movement and just an eerie silence that remained. I saw a tired being right outside my window. 

Around the tree was a deserted space; a small breeze blew by carrying away the dust that lazed around unattached to the earth; there was not a bird that even dared to ruffle its feathers. Around the tree a number of concrete mementoes had been built, with money which was the only pride men understood, masking away the simplified beauty of the once graceful tree that now reduced to a dusty and exhausted trophy of development. 

I wonder why I am turning my back on this friend? I wonder why knowing that I am setting my grave ready with my ignorance does not petrify me? I wonder why the change does not overwhelm me anymore? I wonder why any of this does not bother me at all?

The tree stands still and I move on... 

A million drops, a million reflections and the naissance of many seconds ahead...

Those of you who have read my write ups and known me for a while now, surely know, that the wearisome time spent on my travel to work or vis-a-vis, is the time I sit back to contemplate the state of affairs around me.  

So here we go on another ride of reflections. 

The day had wound up and it was time for me to head back home. The shades of darkness was adorned and I was to hit the road. It was one of those cold wet evenings that every exhausted employee dreaded. This specific evening would mean a slow travel and the declaration that we would see ourselves cradled away only a lot later than what our tiring bodies would desire. It was sadly a day that most of them despised. 

Although, something about these damp dreaded days inspired me. 

Over the chitter chatter of my comrades who I share my cab ride with, I drifted away into an abode of serenity. We were travelling through this gloomy night along roads that were compressed with vehicles. It reminded me of the 'brick games' we used to amuse ourselves with, where we tried to lay and pop in bricks to achieve a complete line of bricks. We would then gallantly achieve the intention to eliminate the piling layers of bricks. Funny how an innocent childhood game was unconventionally schooling us for an aggressive adulthood.  

And then as I gazed out, amidst the glaring lights and blaring hoots from the many exasperated travellers my vision rested upon my window. There I saw a million droplets settled down on the many surfaces and slowly trickling down to a humble end, just like each of us on that road. 

As they slipped down, these drops looked like a million glimmering fireflies. They twinkled even as they drained to an end. In them I saw a million mirrors that captured another million moments of our lives. Each of these moments seized a memory, an expression...

In that swarm of vehicles was probably a mother anticipating the joy of seeing her child after a long day; a husband longing to see the refreshing smile of his wife, after the most transactional airs he had to encounter during the day and so many such wonderful reflections. Of course, it is not just the happy expressions, but the sad ones too that are captured. A smile, a tear, a sigh, anger, relief, love and so many more manifestations of our lives. 

Little do we realize that so much could change over that moment. Each of those expressions were defining us and the decisions that we would take. Probably those reflections were capturing images of new reasons to cherish life or the desperation of knowing that there was no more hope to hold on to. 

Windshields wiped away the pitter patter. Vehicles swooshed through the water drenched roads. And in the course of time these drops would encounter the end of their journey. From the prime of its life these little mirrors of our life will come to an end. 

A raindrop at that moment was a picture from the unknown, a revalidation of who we had come to become. Over those lengthy monotonous travels of life, we need to let ourselves replay these short seconds of our lives. It might just give a new meaning to the old ways of our life. Our boring days might just have an interesting twist to it. Lets not see the messy roads that the rain begets, but the invigorating thrill to move on. 

A million drops, a million reflections and the naissance of many seconds ahead... Lets make these seconds culminate into a life worth living every notch!! 

A boy who knew it all...

I glanced ahead and there sat a stranger... I overheard his conversation with priceless attention, and not the least bit remorse for my exploitation of his privacy! What more excitement I could ask for in my ten minute and ever monotonous journey home. 

That day I saw a boy whose face marked me with a curiosity I could never relieve myself from. What caught my attention was not what the world would define sane. His wandering eyes spoke of stories that hid in shadows of despair... And yet there was always a sparkle he managed to share, compelling us to want to spend another second in his mystic daze!

He is the boy who knew it all!

Little was I a master of my actions and was eventually pulled towards his magnetic finesse! Believe me I've seen people of various disposition, but in the end most of us are a common group of people running around to please the world! A world we made, a world we could change, but always chose to not disagree and be enslaved in our own ridiculous ideologies that merely destroy the beauty that exists.

His boisterous facade, I would say concealed the tussle of a lifetime. Hidden in him, was the wisdom of an era. He never owned to be the perfect person, but in him I saw a model of what a world with no comprehension could take as an example and tread on. He is a man who lives on principles that he believes could make a difference. He doesn't need to agree with anyone, because he does what he believes would make a positive difference. He never gloated of his distinction and merely made his authority known. In him I saw a leader, an intellectual and above all a real human. 

The mystery I went searching in his eyes unfolded stories of an inescapable passion towards the ones he cared about. If he gave you the trust he so seldom presents to the world, he would turn his back at the world, even when it screamed at him that he would be stabbed for believing the naive. But to him, he only justified his own senses and let no man manipulate his intentions with their prejudices.

A few of us would have known individuals as these, or some of us may just be another person like him. Nevertheless, why him or anyone like him, why should I have not observed another person? Maybe it is because I realized that we see people who are eminent, but are reluctant to celebrate them. 

This boy is a revolution to many of us who live in a world of deception. We portray a side of us, which we choose for the world to see, and not the one that should be displayed. Our pride takes the better of us and we forget to fulfill the mere duty of being human in the process. 

He on the other hand is the parallel representation of what we can be in our lives. I for instance concentrate on the gore realities of life and dream for a fairy tale. I suppose I have agreed with the present, that I can survive, but I'm not keen to acknowledge the real person I am. I compromise my humility by plagiarizing the wrongs of the world. I whimper about the menial setbacks not realizing that there are others with not even the prospect of 'hope' to raise them from the ditch they have been abandoned. 

We forget our words and actions would leave impressions. A silly gossip or a silly act of selfishness is only  trivial to us. But the truth is we would have stolen a smile from someone's life. 

This boy does not reveal the truth of his life. However, in all certainty I must agree that he makes sure he lives through the day as it's his last and makes his dreams a reality today. His words are well chosen, his actions are well explained and he speaks like every conversation is his last note to the world, a note that we need to remember for good even when he's long gone!

His life is no different from ours! It just that he makes it different and ensures that the ones sharing this life with him enjoy the joy of life no matter what miseries come through!

In his eyes are stories untold with the wisdom that one should have regard for. And one thing I did learn for sure from the boy who knew it all, is to try and be a rainbow in someone's cloud(Quoted by Maya Angelou). 

Dedicated to JT

Alone they stand…

Recently I was confronted with a question, ‘when we have everything, why do we feel alone?’

I pondered over the question which seemed so plain yet so obscure. And then comprehended, that we humans are a knotty bunch of animations with an eccentric way of life.

Many of our troubles require no remedies but just the reassurance that we are not alone; a humble promise ‘to be there’. This promise is just enough to unravel a way out of every setback that we have to deal with in the cross ways of  our lives.

Sadly, most of us have defined ourselves as the quirky mortals that settle for the prejudices that the larger group agrees upon, no matter how completely we disagree with their ideologies.  

This presents us with the 'loners' who live in seclusion not being able to express their ideas or emotions as it would be in contradiction to these biased beliefs.

Why is it that we allow ourselves to craft these loners into existence?

We the ones with the prejudice, could be living in the fear of knowing someone’s pain, because we already have our own struggles, and cannot take more weight; it could be our selfish resort to abscond distress or it could be merely a notion that we are not inspired to make a difference allowing us to abandon the loners.

Whatsoever the reason, ironically a realisation dawned on me. We, who agree to all norms of our society, with not even a trivial question to defy the society, could be the ones alone. 

We are unable to gather enough valour to see through the masks, that humanity adorns, to conceal their desolation. 

We are the fools who stand alone, deceived. 

We are the ones lost in the crowd.  

For we have been so caught up coping with our own lives, that we fail to see tears that are shed; we fail to hear the unspoken words of agony or even the constant cry for help.

A smile, a simple gesture, a touch, a meek note of appreciation could be our small and inexpensive ways, to reach out and pull back the desolate, to believe that they might have a chance to find new ways and discover new meanings to life.

I promise you that this act of compassion gives you nothing.  

But when you stand alone, regrettably I must disclose that no one would share the hope you shared so generously. On the contrary you will know how much it must have meant to be the hope, that you would then desire for.

Yet when this thought traverses your mind you would feel inspired to get back on your legs. And then when tomorrow comes … A small promise we make.

Alone no more will we stand!