My thought of the day
3 golden rules I’ve learnt from life:
1. TRY
if that doesn’t work…
2. TRY HARDER
if that also fails…
3. KEEP TRYING 
Being brave!
I write what I think. And since I do exactly what I am saying, it becomes difficult to share my musings with people I know and vice versa. For it’s disturbing to get revealed to the mass of faces I cannot relate to (that’s one of the reasons I avoid publishing most of my poems).
I don’t know if other people who love to write experience the same dilemma. Someone said, “It takes a lot of courage to show your dreams to someone else”. It’s true when it comes to writing. People judge every word you pen down as if those things have happened to you. But they forget when people write they also ‘imagine’ things. Most of the times, a writer takes up incidents from life (the rohstoff) and cooks the rest with spices of imagination. And not to forget, writing is a journey in itself… it’s like exploring one’s mind… one does not know where he/she will end up…
It’s the story that carries the writer and all that person can do is seize the movement… that revelation…in words.
And to share that ‘moment of intimacy’ with oneself - does take a lot of courage!
Closing the doors of my heart
I am not sure if I am in a state of disbelief or denial or have become too numb to feel anything. It’s like one more door has to be closed and locked forever. Door leading to more doors. I can hear the memories howling behind … the pounding fists of love…and muffled voices (is it Happiness?) … I hear sounds of mourning… from far behind the holy chants come floating .. the cymbals clap … faint traces of incense fill in my nostrils…all seep through…from those blocked doors…door leading to more doors…
I stand alone. I see known faces of my few left loved ones…and strangers all standing apart…distanced like the stars… we face the door…and the hidden doors behind… waiting for our turn.
The Lakeview
It was serene. The green waters looked still. Quiet reflections stared at me as I mused the fragrance in the air. Some strange flowers must have exploded somewhere. A bee or two seemed hovering around. All looked so lingeringly beautiful.
Who am I?
Who am I?
Am I only I?
Am I all the people I have met?
And longed to meet?
All the people I loved?
All the people I wanted to be?
Am I all?
Am I a million years past?
A face with obliterated memory?
Am I the killer and the killed?
The sinner and the sinned?
Am I the creator of all that is Me?
Am I the creator of all that is You?
Are you the creator of Me?
Are you the creator of You?
Who is this You?
Who is this Me?
Who am I?
Sometimes a loss can bring relief
I lost that story. After writing it with so much intensity, I let it go in a whiff. But I wonder why I don’t feel for it much, when I generally go mad whenever I delete a simple write up by mistake. And this story meant so much to me. It was a vent out to all those that lay frozen…it was my honest self… forgoing everything…my mad leap to pen my own vulnerable thoughts…to come face to face…and now it’s gone…
But do I sense a relief in it? Why?
The ‘Why’
Sometimes when you feel empty, there is so much to tell. So much to share, unwind and come face to face. Silently you want to scream. Argue. Talk it out. But the desperate moments gush in and out like waves… an incessant movement without you getting any sense of it.
Do the days go by like we never existed in them ? Is it always like… the time flies… the music fades… the wind takes away the fragrance when it goes..?
Where are ‘you’ in this vagueness? Are you lost? Do you like being lost? Finding yourself suddenly alone? Amidst some strange woods? Wandering under the stars? Breathing in a lungful of the sky? Hoping the moonlight to take you home? Ah! Home…sweet home… but is it the home you always wanted to go? Or is it the wandering that keeps you awake? Alive?
Have you asked the Why?
Has the wind whispered to you, your answer, yet?
The Thunder of Silence
How often does silence go unheard? In the age of super humans with their rocket-speed lives, almost everything goes unnoticed, unheard. It’s a mad world, in great rush, going crazy in day-to-day pursuits. Where does silence fit in this great cacaphony? Who the hell cares about what has not been said… when so much is being uttered everyday. (I’ve always wondered if noise could be transformed into mechanical energy. . it could run mills.)
But there are some moments in life, you know. Those very defining moments! When words get stuck in your throat. When your natural ways of self-expression get convulated. When your perception becomes so strong that it makes your other senses numb . And its currents take over your inside… making your outward seem impassive when actually so much is going inside you… and you could erupt any moment… it’s like the lull in the great ocean of your heart…before the storm comes… the storm that has the power to ravage everything…every particle that comes in its way…
It’s the moment when the ‘sound’ of silence becomes deafening… choking you to a state of desperation. And at times the cork goes off… whoooosh… words come pouring, roaring, gurgling the language of the unspoken, breaking the mystery of endless possibilities… defining a moment of ‘sound’ against the ‘soundless’.
These are the moments when great things happen!
My thought of the day
Be careful when you show someone your pain. Be ‘extra’ careful when you share your happiness!
