Obnoxiously Yours

He stood there holding his white pyjamas and watching over his ordure on them.

We were surrounded by a large number of people gathered together at our place - so disorganized & unruly. All I know, there was something going on. I stood amidst many faces unrecognizable, family members & few relatives were the ones, I could reckon with. Every head flashed for a while, but later vanished to an illusionary disappearing act. I had no clue or time to figure out anything about the comings and goings of anyone else, since It was only him that I was bothered - rubbing up the wrong way.

He stood there, troubled & uneasy, perturbed-disturbed, & in fractions of time, he started running, fleeing out of the boundaries of the house in a jiffy. There was no one doing nothing. I didn't knew, what to do, whom to tell, I couldn't get hold of anyone, there was no time. I could not have waited and watched. I started to follow him.I was breathless. Watching me walk away at pace slow, the search for him started to grow - there were few others running in all directions elsewhere.

He ran and ran, while I shouted his name loud. Looking back, noticing I was running after him - following - he made faster moves. There was something that had him tormented deep, he didn't wanted new ones to reap. There had been a lot worst we had in the past and he didn't wanted troubles anymore to last - his way of keeping me safe - out of reach of hampered spells cast.

Considering himself to be a victim victimizing the hazards upon, the whole indulgence had made him initiated this mourn upon.

I saw him last - going down this lane, entering the gate & disappeared again. I stood there on the gate with security not so tight, I started explaining things to the guards ‘a one or two’ - sooner or later - they might - asking for there help - to which they agreed to lend. The whole explaining and understanding that underwent, Finding him out was a crucial task & I had less time at my end. No one knew, where he went?

He seemed afraid of his surroundings, of people, of everything & everyone else - He was taken away from his ancestral home by hook-by crook to a completely unfamiliar & habitat so indifferent - surrounded by strangers strangely - being confined to absolutely nothing at his own sweet will - forceblly mistreated - a life, that was not humane anymore. It had been a long time since he saw familiar faces of loved ones whom he could relate to, sit with & talk to. He seemed like, he wanted to flee away from the clutches of an imprisonment that was barbarius. He was not in the pink of his health to be rebellious or revolt.Thy shall only make him suffer more & kill him, behold.

I wanted to stop him, console him & wanted him to confide. If only, I could - I would  ask him ‘what was it, that bothered him & he needed to hide - why? He was and forever be relatively familiar - the last one, I was left with...Now my hearts even heavier...sigh! Sad, what a pity - that he was taken away with intentions so witty - out of reach - out of sight with a forceful-right & everything had been turning insane & sorrowful for him & me - so shitty.

This obnoxious act - had me crying for help & I woke up midway with a phone call realizing it was a dream.

In anticipation - waiting for a clear picture, answers - eventually, hopefully in due course, by and by, in time, or in the long run, in the fullness of time, at some point in the future, one day, one of these fine days, some day, sometime, in time to come, sooner or later, when all is said and all is done, before its to late - I still await to learn. - Anonymous

Comes the Winter, & I am an Elf

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”

"You can't get too much winter in the winter". - Robert Frost

Like many another scion of Celtic forebears, I celebrate the arrival of the Winter Solstice; like many another gardener, I rejoice in the coming of the coldest, darkest days of the year. To be sure, I complain about the cold, lament the lack of sunlight, and crave the warm sunny days of summer still to come.

Perhaps it’s the first mellifluous notes of a half-remembered lullaby? Or the acrid scent of your Grandpa’s cigar? Maybe
the thwack of rubber thongs on sticky bitumen in summer? Or
filaments of dust dancing in the dappled afternoon sunshine?
Hazy, lazy memories of childhood. They jostle and tease. Sepia-toned and rose-tinted.

Getting depressed during winter? Odds are you've heard of seasonal affective disorder, or you've experienced it for yourself. Fittingly abbreviated "SAD," this periodic melancholy is most often seen in the nature's coldest season while your body catches a case of winter-tide doldrums.

"In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer." - Albert Camus. So, I suppose the celebration of Solstice each winter and the acknowledgment of substantial tasks to perform are a kind of reminder of the whole cycle. Role is never completed; there is always something needing attention; and at every turn there are rewards – joys, gifts – that make it easier to get off one's lazy behind. Most days, anyway.

This year must definitely be a sign for all things new.. With my original dislike for wreaths and now being converted, the same has happened in the way of tinsel. Tinsel used to scream tacky to me years ago, but this year I really really fancied some for the bedroom. And with some rice lights tucked up in it, I absolutely love it! Christmas, we are ready for you!

With Christmas only a hand countdown away (Say What?) I am feeling pleasantly chuffed that everything is sorted (all except for few!) and most presents were purchased months before. Admittedly, next on the list is wrapping - which if you ask me, the first few are always fun and have attention to detail.Then the rest? It becomes a chore. So at the weekend, I carted all the presents upstairs along with boxes of wrapping and sellotape and a big mug of tea and headed to the spare bedroom to get fully festive. And feel like an elf for the afternoon.

And because we all know how much we enjoy our own bed, and any form of cozy and snug bedding, I felt it was only right to jump into that sipping on hot tea whilst staring out the window.

I couldn't agree more with Robert Byrne's quote "Winter is nature's way of saying, 'Up yours.' - Anonymous

MY ANTICS; Marijuana, Spirituality & Everything Else

I befriended many in a very joyous yet confusing part of my life. I had gone through so many changes spiritually, physically and emotionally that if I start talking about them, I'd definitely fill a book. I liked few people instantly. much before I saw or experienced the 'real' them. That explains that we were destined to meet. I believe that everyone who comes in our life comes because of a reason.

"Sorry I could not keep up to my promises.I wanted to".

My father came & took me away and I went with him thinking that I'd be able to make him understand my viewpoints about life, work, marijuana, spirituality and everything else. I ended up making a fool of myself at home and subsequently became a nuisance in their eyes. All I needed was a little support. I do not blame them for anything. While I was there, I could have started my own fitness thing out of the money that they sent for giving exams and registering subjects. I wanted to be what my father wanted me to be and fulfill his dreams and at the same time wanted to establish myself in the best possible of ways I could, of what I knew best and could do well for a living as well.

"But, I was in the horns of dilemma back then. I wanted the best of both worlds".

So after I and my father came home (him seriously thinking that I had gone nuts because, I was talking about drugs).I tried hard to make them read on stuff that weed actually is not bad as they think it is, because I did not wanted to hide anything from them. But, they did not understand me or even tried to with an open mind and my antics grew day by day, both in size and stupor.

"I stubbed two cigarettes on my wrist in front of my father to prove a point. I even cut myself with blades out of anger".

Then one day in April when I asked them to give the ATM card to get my internet reactivated, they refused. It was night. I was so angry that I left the home early in the morning to meet you and stay with you. I was so high, I took only a couple of clothes and my Gita and weed. I took a phone which they had bought me earlier in hope that I become a sane(slave minded) person again. I thought that I will sell the cellphone and take a refuge & would sit and plan for life ahead. Meanwhile when I was smoking near a temple in the market, (I hadn't left town by then) I got a call from Goddess and she said that your mother is very upset and crying and if I leave now, she might even die.

I went back to home, just because I thought that I cud not give them so much pain since I had already given them a lot by not performing like a genius in college. There my mom cooked the best she could and offer me and brother asked if I wanted to have a pizza. I seriously thought that they had become open minded and were ready to at least make a teeny tiny effort to understand me...but, I was wrong!. My brother tricked me into going to a rehab by saying that they need someone to teach people yoga and they wanna offer you a temporary job. I thought since my father had blatantly refused to sponsor to even start my fitness thing, I'll do it on my own.

"I became claustrophobic."

I was trapped there. With vile, filthy, unbecoming and uncouth close minded strangers. They made twenty of us sleep in a tiny room with no ventilation. I nearly died in the night. The next morning they gave me a pep talk and 'tried' to brainwash me into believing that 'what all they said about narcotics was for my own good, as if they were doing a favor on me. They make people eat feces and make them drink urine in front of all the inmates if someone does not adhere to their rules and regulations. They make people use soap once a week.They make people naked on a whim and make them stay nude for days at a stretch if we voice our opinion. - these three lines are just trailer & I do not want to reveal much.

The great Chanakya says that "No friendship is formed without the expectation of a favor of some kind".

Well. I found a book 'the autobiography of a yogi' in the rehab & It became my constant friend and companion . Surprisingly just a few days after finishing the book, I was released.
You have no idea how much I missed few of the people that I could count on my fingers. Feeling bad of certain things that could never go wrong if I had done that or this. Two hard months of rehab mind programming rendered me senile, neutered & scared like a sacrificial goat. I was even afraid to open up to my old friends, left alone.& scared that they might send me back to that hell hole again.

"God does work in mysterious ways".

Then, I asked my parents what do they want. They said the same, whatever you like to do. I was so angry from inside that I thought of dragging them in the court and I would have won too keeping in mind that nobody can force an adult into a rehab without ones consent. It is akin to kidnapping. But, my alter ego stopped me from stooping so low. I then said that I will complete my course in six months as they wish.They became happy instantly. Now they started saying that once I complete my degree they will help me out with my plans - I believed them. When my exams were nearing an end, one of my friends suggested that I should try for a bank job since they have a lot of vacancies and I was eligible despite my pour record at college. So I asked them if I could try for that. They said yes. I couldn't run off just like that this time you know. I needed to plan long term.

I know it must be hard for someone who loves ones parents deeply to understand this. But, God does not bless everyone with the same blessings in life. My parents are not evil. They are just stubborn and close minded. They believe whatever the papers or television or their social circle says. They never read except the papers so have nil view about how the real world operates and have not a tiny bit of idea about law of attraction.

By December 2013, I had completed my college course and mom and me came back home after staying together for five months there. I passed. Then I presented them with the idea of becoming a Bank PO. They agreed to let me go and have coaching and agreed to let me stay alone. I got coached. I came back and ever since may 2014 have been living at home. Gave five exams. Few of them I didn't clear and for the rest still awaiting results. My father tried to lure me again by saying that I will give you thirty lac which are in your bond after three years of being in the job. then, you could start you thing(whatever you want to). My best guess is that he hoped that I will succumb to slave life that is a 9 to 5 job in three years , get my balls and dreams chopped off and never look towards fitness or writing again. Well I said , No thanks. I don't need your money anymore. I will get it by whatever little I could save in my job and start my own thing side by side. If my dreams come true and things get sorted my way, I will even have no need for the damn job. Whatever happens, I will become the best I can be. So, here we are.

I tried to remember & tried searching chats but I believe in my drunken stupor I had deleted every friend from my list who mattered and every message. I cursed my luck. I hope this is not too boring for you to read. but, one thing I can assure you. this is the truth. I got beaten at rehab for speaking the truth. "I will never return to this family once I go away". I wont cut contacts with them but will not make any effort whatsoever to share whats going on in my life. Nobody dictates what I do or don't do in my life.

For now, I'm laying low and keeping my feelings inside. Being an egotistical bipolar depressive person that I am, I have talked only about me. Thanks for hearing me out. Much love, kisses and hugs - Anonymous, Male, 27, India

DAD thinks he is a "SUPER-MAN"

"As long as I am this or that, I am not all things."
-- Meister Eckhart


I thought one of the advantages of having an older guy was that I was going to be able to relax. But all of this swimming and running and rowing, it’s just like how some of my relatives got into this country!

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, that's my dad, and I wouldn't have him any other way. - because my father is not afraid of anything no bulls, no heights, no helicopters, no fast cars.

I guess I could say that my dad is Superman, though I don't mean that in a Clark Kent, leap-tall-buildings in a single bound way. He doesn't have super strength, he can't melt things with his pupils, fly, or see through walls (though I'm pretty sure he has eyes in the back of his head). No, my dad is superhuman in ways much more amazing than that. He is a "SuperKid"

I reason I am writing this is because, recently, & many a times, I have seen him doing all the funny things just like a Kid, which were told not to. He would be extra vigilant on the pettiest of things, that he believes only need his attention, and no one other then him could do any good to.

He has been falling around here and there, From bed to the floor, in the Loo, Unbalancing himself a number of times. Recently he fell from the 2nd floor & straight on to the Car's Bumper. Just Imagine, what sight it would be - a mixed feeling, more of an emotional, worried sort & sarcastically humorous later. It all sounded like "Akshay Kumar(Actor)" doing a stunt in a Bollywood Movie, & making an attempt to Jump from high above to the Car's Bumper.
 
Damn. & then he was rushed to the hospital, with a Bone here and there raised & lowered, & a Blood Clot.

Doctor said it was a Miracle' how he was saved & still is decent enough to be saved & normal. & I cried deep down in my heart, realizing the very fact, that" if if does not stop's doing this once and for all" It would be no Miracle anymore.

As I walked down the corridors of the Hospital, I found this "Champak Book "(a bouquet of short stories, comic strips etc ), & I happily picked it up, & starting digging into it,& later I realized, was it this that I was being sent by God to collect, via all this, to the hospital.

Persistent on getting petite things done over with in fractions of second, & then going to check whether they were done, if not, shall happily go and get them sorted himself. Knowing this fact that his body does not allow him to take in all that

He's the constant rock in my life, along with my mother. I feel the pain when things happen to him. After a certain age" we all agree, that they all become "Kid". He's the man who'd bought me things, spent hours teaching, guiding me. The man who pick me up and carry me inside when I fell asleep, the man who'd point to all the petite good and bad things happening around, with him & his family.The man who would be more worried by the little petite things, as he was the only one who knew, given a chance, would sort it out & do it himself, no matter how much stress, pain, ill, weak his body was in. His body would no longer support him, he would end up falling here & there, bump into this and that all the time. Despite he shall stand & start doing all the necessarily unnecessary, which he had to. At a age when he should have some poise & peace, he is being one naughty kid, persistently engaging himself in this or that, & getting himself into trouble all the time, in odd ways, which are not even anywhere near him to leave him in a condition that he conquers, despite all the odds, & readily puts himself in - all the time.

My dad is my hero,like everyone. Looking at my dad, with his salt and pepper beard or cleaned shaved at times and smile & frown lines, I know most of the time what he means/feels.

I knew my dad had always wanted to give the best to me and my siblings. Throughout all the hardships, he's never given up and that reason, among many other, is why my dad is so important to me. I look at that old man, at my old man, and I see a reason to be all I can be and so much more.

I see cold hard proof that it doesn't matter where you came from, just matters where you're going. When it comes down to it, I guess I really do believe my dad is Superman. I can't think of anyone who can go through the things he did and still find something to genuinely smile about & still landing himself in a most worried state of dilemma, still being worried about" Did you ate", Did you finished that, Did that? and so on".

I hope others have their own SuperMan/SuperKid in their lives.

"you never know how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have."

The list of guests keeps approaching, & then there is family & relatives always pouring in, visiting him to check how he is doing. Sister's & there family, along with Me, ,My Mother. Brother giving company to Dad all the time. Yesterday I had made a cup of tea for dad, to give him along with the medicines that he was supposed to have, but this Visitor would not leave, & so I knew I had to Re-heat it again, & I waited. That's like one of the many of the everyday chores of my Life.

"He and I are from different generations, and I won't lie, it isn't always easy" - Anonymous

Curious Approach - A Less Easier

I could go on and on falling in for the infatuated me, for thy someone' risking my dignity, offended by rejection, but eventually ' at least I could say' i tried, made a move. so what if it did not worked. At least the desirous me' shall not be kept 'haunting chasing thy. (I at times fail to understand, how difficult it has become to tell someone that I am fond of you' & I like you & could fall in love with)' emotional(rationale & logical statements being considering flirtatious) like these' now a days no matter how much un-tabooed they get' they still fall into the category of in the closet shy & reserved syndrome, still living with thy self perception of "on a look out for someone other then the one who just approached", satisfying themselves with a preliminary sufficed satisfactory "they are better off alone" syndrome. 'No matter how hard it all gets, in such a easy to go phenomenon, that could have been', you could just no longer perform right to speak or do without thinking twice. Being Straightforward has only kept itself restricted to words in writing' & if it comes into practice verbally' it is labeled a repulsive/violent act.

For example. Why can't we just not say to someone (known/stranger) that you really look hot & sexy(in the dress you are wearing, or I would like to see you without anything on) & I desire for more then just being with you, other then staring at you, and feeling infatuated to the core, imagining things you & me could do. This could possibly be inventive on a curious experimental rationale of a human behaviorism by choice of actions.

I still can't erase the thought of the glimpse of that someone that I saw, I am sure I will be seeing again, and I guess I need to be courageous enough if not to talk face to face leave a note saying how & what all I feel, & hand it over saying' Excuse me this is for you), & run away, vanish completely, leaving my contact details. Can give it a try. Thinking exactly how would I face thy, next time, face to face, if things did not work in the apt way? - A curious anticipation, left to my emotional, mental, sensual, & physical state of attributes, running down from the mind, to the heart, through the blood vessels, leaving me all the more asexual or the moment. - Anonymous

Out There - Killing Time

I was out in the Backside Balcony, of the 2nd Floor, with my phone, while I waited for someone, who I had come across to meet, shelling out a sum of Rs.600 via Cab,for a meeting that lasted 10 minutes precisely. Reaching at 11, and leaving by 2, with a wait for more than hour. There was a person who was playing some game on his cellphone, waiting like me, killing time. With a little discussion over several issues, trying to communicate and kill out the torturous time, that we both waited for. It was quite friendly of him in a humble way to communicate.

Not keen on to playing games, & feeling sleepy at the same time, because I had not slept the whole night. I felt, if I had to sit there on the chair, I would certainly doze off, and beside the fact that the cab driver was waiting, with no clue to how much more time would it take. For once it came to my mind to flee away from there, but then I thought I had anyway to pay, so rather sit there and do what I came for.I thought to make it a little worthy of time & creativity. Now trying to kill my time, clicking few pictures.

I stood on the strange land, with a strange surrounding. Looking at the chores of few strange faces cleaning there house with the broom in hand, the other one sorting out the garden, and a guy standing on the water tank in his half pants, trying to do something. I wanted to peak on to what was exactly happening out there, I tried gathering myself up closer to the edge of the boundary walls of the balcony, and found that he was cleaning the water tank, mugging out all the dirty water out of it ,splashing it out of the tank. I did saw him noticing me, noticing him, but I kind of stood there imitating as I was busy with my cell, and cared nothing whatsoever. Later to my surprise, after like 15 minutes or so, when I saw, another guy coming out of the water tank, it was hilariously surprising, questioning myself on what on the earth was he doing inside the water tank.Later when these two men came off the tank, they took a bath, and fled away, there i realized I had no entertainment left to entertain me anymore, and with screeching heat on my head, I decided to come inside.

I wish I could have made a video of the same, and clicked some pics,but I did not, could not. I did not wanted to act strange pointing my phone on strange faces, in a strange way, that would leave them clueless on to what I was up to.. I certainly did not wanted to give them any ideas. - Anonymous

Fucked in a Fucking Way

We all have our part of stories. 

Why can't everyone fall in love like I do? Why cant there be just profound fondness or willingness to get close or carried away without no inhibitions with our so called infatuatedly habituated willingness of making out. Why won't we, or why we couldn’t relate in the same way. Why there had to be reasons so reluctant, that killed everything completely, putting an end to it even before it started. Why won't we even give it a try & why every time it had to turn so fake or artificial, Why do we have to hide? Why aren't people so openly responsive enough to give it a considerable thoughtfulness.

Why was it so difficult?

"A good intention clothes itself with power(never wear masks) - that sure would have been a powerful intention, intentionally or unintentional.- Now how powerful, needs to be figured out. But what if someone likes undressing much more then being clothed?"

Everything seemed pretty much straight forward & easy going, without any agitations or masks & no sign of a camouflaged pretentious mind. Something told me, there was a friend or a friend to be, or even more. We had this age gap between us, but did not felt if there was any. It was good to have someone staying up close-by. You could probably end up crying your heart out or sharing secrets & being happy go lucky together. 

I was so overwhelmed by a yes, when I asked - I would want you to stay tonight. I met someone after a days conversation. Just the thought of meeting someone, & having someone staying over. had brought in a gamut of something pleasant into me & I was joyous & excited. It was drizzling outside as if it was in the mood. In that time frame, we were carried a little, enjoying the music & having couple of drinks(wine & whiskey) after finishing up the leftover food - we were still sober. Tried pulling all the conversational strings over & over, while we talked for a while before we hit the bed. 

“Sharing a bed, was not a phrase just limited to a sexual parameter, but it was more of a comfort zone” 

We slept afar from each-other. Though I had intentionally not made it clear that I was possibly attracted towards this person. I was reluctant & possibly did not make any advances of any kind in the darkness, unsure about how would the other person react. I wasn't sure about anything else either, but all I knew was, that I did not wanted us to sleep. The other side was reserved, shy or unsure or probably had other agendas. I on the other hand was willing to hug, hold, touch but kept looking at those closed eyes, staring at the face.

With a glare of light that’s all which I possibly could get from my phone, looking at the sleeping posture by means of indirect light. Despite being anxiously excited to see as much of the naked flesh that I could probably see though, The little that I saw, made me more curious and I rather fell in love and fondness with the clothed and wrapped up soul, that slept like a baby next to me. Something told me, the one who laid next to me wasn't having a sound sleep either. 

Though I was much keen to go closer & cuddle but I refrained myself. I still made little effort while I managed to hold, hug or possibly kiss, feel or touch by gestures - possibly loving. (with no sexual misinterpretation), seeking emotional comfort & as little as physical endurance that I was craving for & wanted little attention and love in return. I was a human soul with longing that wanted to run down deep getting intimately involved. Sex was not on my mind & all I wanted was to ease out all that I could there & then in that darkness of night. I was little sleepy & at the same time sleepless & awaken wanting to somehow get close & intimate, I hadn't thought that there could be a day, when we could possibly end up together on the same bed. 

"Nothing else other then my soul which had a hard on - irrespective of anything or nothing, there it could shag it self off at that very moment.”

Night had passed by. We had a cup of tea in the morning. I guess I had not been a pretty good host, could have been better. I am sorry if I could not be thoughtful about a hungry stomach(guest), while I had a hungry heart. There was not much to offer today, maybe if there was a next time, It might give me a clear indication - food for thought & a food for heart. We could have stayed more & longer, if only I did not had any plans. As much as I would have wanted to hug, shook hands or kiss, while I bid goodbye leaving thee, helping to catch a richksaw puller. 

I had intimated you later about how I made friendly & romantic gestures in the night. I am not sure if you felt & witnessed them while you slept. - Anonymous 

Grappling The Randomness

I have a very small number of things to be sceptical about, & at times I am hyper sceptic. But I want to be fooled by randomness.

No’ I ain't a wrestler & I know no martial arts!

Still ‘grappling with my random moral compass’ - things of things most people resolve by the time they're my age. Its difficult to say, who is grappling who? From where I stand everything seems so random. If I could stand somewhere else, I would see the order in it.

We live wondering why life is so conditional & yet unexpectantly accepted as livable. There will always be this fight - wherein, life would work in its own way & we would want to make it work in accordance, the way we want it to. 

Have you ever stopped to figure out & understand how life works? How random do you think it gets? Ever imagined life without randomness - wouldn't it be boring?. I don't know about life, but chances are that, life knows me pretty well. Very few understand the real you - how well do you understand yourself? - chances are always remote & vice versa. For the only truest of thing to yourself is your very being, until you figure how true you are to your own self & how true yourself is to you? you shall not figure out anyone or anything at all truly.

If at all, you could be best of friends with life, it could teach you a thing or two.Its not there only to amuse you or entertain & if It does ,It expects things in return - depends on how intellectual or dumb you are to let its randomness go or grow - it takes much more always to make it work, then you think.

Randomness - if it's going to start, randomly in circles, is going to end up in a random way.

I have always been persevering, thinking critically, analyzing, and constructing an in-depth understanding when faced with a problem that does not have a clear path to a solution & end up generating a solution or an opinion to a problem.

No it's not entirely your fault to presume, assume, perceive, be analytical, make judgements by default.I can very well conclude, based on my experience when I start to make judgements about certain things, whenever I do! (I am not being judgmental)

Strength instead of being the lusty child of passion, grows by grappling with and subduing them. James M. Barrie

There could be a sequence of verbs growing in no direction(occurrence or absence) or in a non-compounding way due to unintentional reasons that has no purpose. How willing & strong are you to withstand - holding up & standing your ground against the haphazard-randomness. How well equipped are you to struggle, grapple(wrestle - literally or figuratively) or deal with a problem or difficulty, (something or someone) in your endeavour trying hard to solve it or overcome. 

We row old with wisdom, grow out of our experiences - slow down a little loosing on to our potential, addressing odds & the even, everything & almosts. Learning from the mistakes and there's no looking back. It's exactly where & how we started from & came back at the end.

There is this randomness forever & the grappling goes on. - Anonymous

AWAKENED House of Night-2

Spectacles - where art though? Come On!...Stop Playing Games now ! Phew, Now where did I landed up thee - can't see a thing.Few days back, I forgot my smartphone in the refrigerator & when I got hold of, it was cold - all blurred with the moisturizer, I had to give it a CPR to bring it back to life...luckily it wasn't dead. I wonder if at all, I did kept my spectacles in the fridge. No! I just double checked, it wasn't there.If at all it would have been there, the windshields would have already cracked & by no means it would come back to life. Thankfully, I had this old broken pair with me, but I was still finding it difficult to adjust, read & type as things did not appear that clear. I am still, trying to figure thee out desperately - enough is enough!

Well' I am the most busiest & the free person in the world, living by myself, eventually forcefully or by choice - having found reasons to keep my self occupied. These small fits of irony in petite forms are hilarious & keeps you engaged - living it in the best possible or impossible way one could, by whatever means - sufficing to ones interests of random choices of plentiful things that keep us alive & going. 

Glad to have had found the black stray dog back on the street again(He is getting old,looks weak, must have lost his appetite), who seemed to have had fled away disappearing for a while, hiding - suffering from agony & pain. I could not take care of him, rescue or pacify him (I had my reasons) when he got hurt with a bad wound. He would stare , wanting to be cuddled pampered and possibly sheltered. Guilty over it as time passes. Not much long way back this dream that I had of a dog, made me realized - to be an indicative warning of the things that were to happen.

Spiritually aware of the universe and it's direct metaphysical connection to one's own being and the connection it host to all life forces. Awakened being is one that has willingly discovered and experienced masturbation. This Awakened Night had me, addressing ironical awkwardness of kinds. From comedy of errors: ‘Er’(pause - expressing hesitation & uncertainties) or ‘Err’(to stray, wander with erratic & erroneous assumptions - partly correct or with errors) to standing-up (being loyal yourself, people & beliefs - taking small but powerful steps - to remain sound & intact under stress, attack, or close scrutiny)

A "fading garland" used as a metaphor for the evening of life or aging in general " Did she realize in a flash of prescience that there was no earthly future for our sweet Cecily? Not for her were to be the lengthening shadows or the fading garland. The end was to come while the rainbow still sparkled on her wine of life, ere a single petal had fallen from her rose of joy.
(I am reading Lucy M. Montgomery’s The Golden Road) & listening to Indian Summer by The Doors. 

No matter how outrageously accustomed as fools we tend to live this life, abiding by a set of accustomed principles of perceptive fabricated lifestyles that we choose, disillusioned & deserted trying to find comfort to confront, retaining our courage back - trying to live. No matter what we strife or aspire for. When life gets tough & harder it makes us realize it always existed & for everyone in bits & pieces. Engrossed with the chaos & negates trying to possibly outreach our own self & standing up in ways that could help & pull us out of this hell - so kniving & cruel and put us back on track, wanting to step on to this heaven' so kind and generous. Hell yeah!

One life to an individual, soul & body & then a viscous circle of a molecular evolution of 8.4 million life times to have this human body(form) again. Life is one hell of a greater ‘Stand-Up Comedian’ itself, with plans of its own - laughing on our ‘Comedy Of Errors’, while we are still in the process of understanding or underestimating a joke, that life made upon us. For not there is one person who could have it all and for others who would have nothing. The uncertainties of how, why, if & but’s haunt us to an early grave, for blessed are those who live much more then they ever thought and lucky are the ones who resolute dissolving to an early death, having to suffer no more. I am now listening to Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.

There are many facets to a set of deeds compiled in past, present or future & its one of it's kind. I don't have a clue - how being an pessimist, optimist, opportunist or anything else works - All I know or guess is, it comes in shuffling shifts taking you from one pandora to another of a handful-set of human phenomenons for a greater good or worse. Everyone & to each its completely a different one. 

"Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers,And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers; A poet's face asleep in this grey morn. Now in the midst of the old world forlorn. A mystic child is set in these still hours. I keep this time, even before the flowers, Sacred to all the young and the unborn. And to the future of my own young art, And, among all these things, to you, my sweet, My friend, to your calm face and the immortal. Child tarrying all your life-time in your heart". - Alice Meynell

I am listening to Daydream by Jack Steadman right now.That cant be a coincidence now, I just checked the time, its 03:37 A.M. I seem to have been awaken for some nights now & I seem to have been hallucinating & getting confused - I cant remember, which part of it was real & which part of it was a dream? jokes apart. I guess, I need a sleep - I need a dream.

फ़ुर्सत मिलती है तो ख्वाबगाह से गुज़र आती हैं हसरतें मेरी, अनमोल हुआ करती थीं जो आज दो कौड़ी की हो चलीं हैं, फल्सफ़ो में उलझी गुमराह कायनात-ए-फ़ितरत मेरी.

“Whenever they get chance, my desires pass by this house of dreams. It used to be so precious way back, now seems to have gone worthless - my universal inherent nature, getting involved in the arguments of philosophy have gone astray."- Anonymous

AWAKENED House of Night

This call had woke me up from a dream - a real alarming-rather annoying one. It was at the moment I was awakened ironically with new emotions stirred within me. They say "Dreams are Not Real".Damn they are wrong - hence proved! 

Nocturnal me, caught in the wee hours again, listening on to Surrender by Darlene Koldenhoven (Tranquil Times). It is a sleepless night, despite being a little tired, I am awake to this restless alertness of mind which has taken me to the root or origin of plentiful of things - so thoroughly thoughtful. Acquainting myself with extremely anxious tendencies of heart - so emotional and radical.

‘For what ought to happen, shall, For what not to shall not.’

LAWD...I just tripped on the floor naked, while going to the kitchen to cook myself dinner, straight after a bath. Not realizing the watery floor(I forgot to wipe it off' last time while washing clothes' when I had my washing machine pouring out soapy water during the process & me trying to experiment with it's mechanics (knob play) for a faster job)’

With the closed locked doors & latched windows - am I still haunted? I just heard some noise in the next room. All sorts of thoughts ran onto my head -  Who or what it could be? A cat? or something/someone else - fingers crossed.I immediately got myself slipped into a pair of boxers, as I had completely forgot slipping into one, while sipping, eating ,sitting looking at my laptop.I am habitual of not wearing anything or much of things generally - being just myself - completely at ease. A thought striked my mind ‘What if I was found naked by a robber that came to rob, or someone who came to hunt me down & kill me?’,I increased & decreased the volume of the music playing & started juggling with my keyboard. I started talking to myself & enacted as if, I had a company & I was not all alone by myself. Least bothered about it much later, since I heard nothing more, I went to peep & everything seemed fine. There is this thing, I am always worried about & afraid of-not wanting to be seen naked, when I am unconscious or dead. 

"The thing you fear most has no power. Your fear of it is what has the power. Facing the truth really will set you free, for Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.
.
There was not one, but in volumes - these thought provoking & alarming tit-bits of chaosed & intellectual musings that surrounded me, had me engrossed. Swinging across to these situationally propositioned dilemmas at my disposal were these alienated alternative mismatches of infinite possibilities with positive & negative attributes. Life, in its attempts to harness-tackle & take over control had me & my horses forcefully tamed in a peculiar way. 

By now straps were fastened & this Awakened House of Night had me - riding on to my horses(peculiar thoughtfulness),trying to get across to the other side of the world (away from nuanced riddance), but with a quarrelsome self realization. 

I wont hesitate or be reluctant when it comes in tougher times to enact upon, choose or take a decision. Like everyone else, one of the several advises I was given was to read “How to Win Friends & Influence People”& to oblige & maintain - keeping up with the relationships. I didn't find it at all necessary by any reason or rhyme to get into trouble of finding & getting hold of the textual vocabulary of words since life was about real experiences - worthy & meritorious in its own way. There was absolutely nothing I had to compete for. I had no one to influence or get influenced by none. I never needed to win no friends - I had the best ones already. I wasn't willing to deliberately keep up with anyone single handedly, when I didn't see it coming from other end, its about time - I put an end to this obligatory entertained. People, I have been lately dealing with havent been noble & wise - no offense. Everyone seem to have or absolutely no idea of how things are at other end & in no way things could be any better. I was tired of obliging fools (people with idiocy) who by no means would change there self-esteemed stubbornness or ill habitual acts & still be erratic, bothersome, vague & useless. They wont lend any conclusive help in real, despite knowing the peculiarities of the issue. They who wrongly perceive themselves to be a marvelously qualified ones. lending them a ear was a painstaking job - they would only blabber nonsense & wont do any good. I often end up trusting my hunches - they're usually based on facts filed away just below the conscious level.

Listening to Stairway to Heaven(Apocalyptica). Leading me to a conclusive realization, that I was headed in a right direction & my place in there was kept safe - for I have been a good boy. Heaven is not a place or a condition. It is merely an awareness of perfect oneness. How far could one say that truly for hell as well?.

Brightening me up, was‘Just Be’ song by Paloma Faith, What were the odds? - My earphones started acting shitty - one side played and other had to be adjusted repeatedly & my laptop charger was being a useless freak. (not-charging) 

“If you want to know your past life, look into your present condition; if you want to know your future life, look at your present actions." *condition's apply

Late nights always make me groggy the next morning. With Winter Lullaby by David Garrett to my ears, my eyes closed - I was on bed now & the early morning had led me into a peacefully lazy & tiresome stillness. It ought to be a wonderful morning, in hope that it be. - Anonymous

This PERFUME

Perfume is a story in odor, sometimes a poetry in memory. - Jean Claude Ellena

If only one could smell - If at all the fragrance could yell, this perfume, the one I am wearing today after a real long time has it's own story to tell.  

Where from? even I don't know - not a clue! Why? because, this came as a parcel couriered from the unknown - I fetched. A brown card-board rectangular box cello-taped with a chit pasted upon, on to it - had my name & address - with a black marker etched. For a moment I assumed it to be just another online shopped delivery parcels, but no, it wasn't. The momentum of curiosity & excitement in extremes that underwent, unwrapping to check what the box of pandora holded, as I unfolded - who it came from? or was it God scent? 

Somethings, sometimes, that come for you-come to you, no matter what & sets you off on your willingness to take chances through the whole exploring & the dwelling into - trying to figure things out. This one came with  contact details mentioned of someone unfamiliar I did not knew. Though I had an urge to text or call the person - I just never did. I eventually decided to call it a gift from a secret admirer. Despite all the odds - I had by now already pulled off my thinking hats & done away with. I had kept the perfume & to the sender imaginary goodbye’s I bid. 

They say ‘It's nearly impossible to smell yourself’, so if by any chance you are near, please be my guest without a fear - Do come down, so we (each other) could smell.

I have not much often, but at times, put ones on. I prefer more of light, soothing, pleasant ones & not the sorts that give me a headache. But whatever it be' I noticed - this parfum(undisclosed mixture), the one I am wearing right now  has a distinctive smell(tacky-funky fragrance-too loud) & certainly has a smiley effect on me'- making me feel good - I wonder they did not had in it poured the laughing gas by any chance or was it a means to hypnotize & tame me to fall in love or fondness with this admirer! WTF' LOL. Nevertheless it's always an awesome feeling - having to burst into fits of giggles or smiles! No, It's only a smiling gas,I think & I ain't laughing out loud! - maybe or may be not! burp! (I m sorry, excuse me for that, I just had friend rice) - too much for my chemo-sensory system to take in at the same time. I’am enjoying this suspiciously mischievous act & feeling wander-fully thoughtful. 

I am intoxicated, It has got into me - triggering my sensory neurons.

There are less of times, you are in a state like this. Telling to myself - today, if I had been face to face with unfriendly or enemy if any - he/she shall have been excused for all those less harmed - little petite things, ever convicted or any acts of offending me ever committed. I would consider everything passe and hug thee. Sounds a little cheesy though - I know!" Hilarious - there's something in the air - in love & war, as they say, everything is fair. It’s the sensory cells doing the mischief. I don't know whom to blame - Let there be a blame-less game, & let the sender have no name. Let me rise and shine putting on the perfume every day-every night, i’ll make the perfume my amorous - armour knight. I didn't even realized, I was sitting without the fan for all this while - ranting about this perfume, with a bowl of food in my hand - I’ll hog now to the leftovers & finish - I hopefully might. Mesmerized mind - I seem to have lost my focus & concentration - there is definitely something in this perfume - ‘aroma’ cruel or kind? I need to be cautious next time. Its just once in a blue moon-things like these happen. Its not always, that I get gifts from people I know or I happen to have secret admirers so many but then, you don't want to end up getting hallucinated-hypnotized - tumbling down into rifts if any.

Its not like, that I don't love perfumes or surprises...Oh I absolutely love the good ones pouring in - in abundance, I do! but would have been glad, if I knew or a hint or two -I had. Maybe in days to come, I might figure-out the whereabouts of some. I am sure the receiver & receptors are good in detecting things until they practically shut down after being bombarded with the same for long. Meanwhile I’ll be sniffing around different odors & many of things - good & bad, right or wrong.

‘My nose seems to be sending signals to my brain’ - Anonymous

San Burrito

Greetings all from a gray Atlanta, where it is slightly cold but without a trace of the snow and ice nightmare ("Snowpocalypse '011") that had the city in its grips last week. A cat snoozes to my right, a dog snoozes to my left, and I'm eating Cheez-Its (mmm, TBHQ) to recover from a miserable hangover...ahh, I must be home.

The occasion of my visit is a trip to San Francisco I made in order to attend a conference and present our work. The conference was fine, but it was my first time in SF and I was really excited to look around, and fortunately I scheduled myself a couple of days to do so.

I was prepared for rotten weather, as I've heard it can be in the winter, but found a city enjoying sunny 21C/70F temperatures, nothing like the winter at all. I didn't anticipate wanting to be outside much during this trip, but SF was just begging to be explored.

I got in to the city in the early afternoon and checked into my hotel (after walking about 10 blocks in the wrong direction). Trans-global traveler as I now am, I've become accustomed to losing all sense of time and having to quickly adjust to avoid jetlag. The strategy is easy, just a one-step process:

1) stay awake.

This isn't easy when you're presented with a clean, empty bed, but once you think about that city waiting out there, it's a no-brainer. Get out and hit the streets! And so, a man on a mission, I headed for the Mission.

First thing I did when I got there was, patriotic American as I am, to enjoy our national dish:

Holy moly, look at that chow. That burrito was so damn good I might print the picture out and eat it. This was placed before me for the whopping price of US$6 (=AU$6!), world's finest macromicrobrew beer included! The place was Taqueria Pancho Villa on 16th St between Mission and Valencia, named as a joke, I was to learn: the owner is named Francisco Villa, just like the Mexican revolutionary. Unlike his namesake, though, Francisco doesn't earn the nickname "Pancho", which roughly translates as "Fatty". But the place was bedecked with images of El Comandante, including this unbelievable "bronze" bust:

Imagine having that in your house. Your north Mexican landowner dinner guests would shit their pants and run in fright back to their latifundias.

The Mission is also home to some famous graffiti walls:

Lovely stuff, especially when you're full on Mexican food, giddy about being in a Spanish-speaking country again, delirious from 20 hours of flying, and many dollars poorer after visiting Mission Workshop (coming soon to Australia, they told me).

After browsing the rest of the things on offer in the Mission---826 Valencia, bookstores and coffee shops---I wound my way back to the Tenderloin, where I was staying, and managed to keep myself awake until a respectable 10PM.

The conference nominally started the next day---Saturday---but when I went down to the Convention Center (the Moscone Center, named after the SF Mayor that was killed with Harvey Milk) I realized that there wasn't much going on, so I picked up my conference materials and walked toward the Bay. Along Market St, I came across these excellent examples of public art outside an office building:

These fantastic, Tim Burton-esque pieces, called "Moonrise", are by Ugo Rondinone. Much more dramatic and competent photos of these pieces can be seen here.

My stroll took me out to the Ferry Terminal, a perfect spot to enjoy what was turning into a glorious morning. Looking east from the Terminal, the Bay Bridge was a delight to behold: and, behind me, lay the Financial District, looking prim and proper:

A bunch of stereotypes with legs, the natives joined me en masse at the Ferry Terminal that morning for a farmer's market. There they were, wearing their fleece vests, sampling artisan cheeses and gasping at the sight of organic parsnips. I was truly in the thick of westcoastness. And yes, I made it out alive, sallying forth along the Embarcadero toward Fisherman's Wharf, where flocks of tourists are greeted by an overgrown, grown-over crab-friend-and then get to feast their eyes (and abuse their noses) on these guys:

These chunky customers have taken over Pier 39 and while away the days howling, barking, and sleeping in a real pile when they're not shoving each other off the platform. I missed videotaping that but here are some placid moments:

In the distance lay The Rock, القطرس*:

*Note: wanna get stuck into a mind-bending Wikipedia wormhole? Try doing the etymology on "Alcatraz" and "albatross".

That self-same day, I managed to climb the hills to Lombard St, "The Steepest Street in America", then down again, then up again to the San Francisco Art Institute, where in 1931 Diego Rivera left a hell of a calling card:

This painting-within-a-painting features Diego and his artist friends, and several anonymous workers, painting and sculpting images of a giant worker/engineer, depicting him as the person on whom society depends. In those heady days of epic struggle, Rivera and his sympathizers had invested their hopes for a better world in the international working class and left this as a clear message: even our monuments should be seen as the outcome of a collaborative process of production.

The Art Institute (built around an old convent) features another spectacular attraction, the vista from its roof:

There, in the center of the photo, you see Telegraph Hill, topped by the famous fire-nozzle of Coit Tower. It was my next destination:

Wasn't that quick? Actually, I stopped on the way to grab some famous focaccia from Liguria in North Beach and scarfed it when I reached the top of the hill.

The tower was commissioned at the bequest of Lillie Hitchcock Coit (talk about your tongue-twister names) and built in 1933 to honor the city's firefighters. The New Deal Public Works of Art Project also commissioned fresco murals in the lobby of the tower from San Francisco artists. Deemed "communistic" at the time, the murals depict the daily life of toilers across the state, from fruit-pickers to slaughterhouse workers to city-dwellers, and address contemporary issues such as the stock market crash and increasing social polarization. Two of the murals were actually considered too provocative to show to the public and so were destroyed before the Tower could be opened. Most of the murals are clearly in the style of Rivera, though some tend more toward romantic visions of the American countryside (and are therefore pretty boring). In one scene, people read newspapers in a library; the headlines spell financial crisis, industrial struggle, and dark news from Europe. In response, a man reaches for a tome:

And that was one of the murals that was saved from destruction! Overall the murals are amazing and worth the climb to the Tower. They really give you a sense of the city's radical history long before the 60s. The Tower itself was closed, unfortunately, so I couldn't go up. My camera also died at this point so I couldn't take more mural photos, but more can be found with a little Googling.

I wound my way back town the hill and through North Beach, stopping at City Lights bookstore for a stickybeak and Vesuvio for a pint. Walking out of the bar and turning the next corner, the scenery changed abruptly:

That's right, San Francisco has a Little Sydney!

Actually, they call it "Chinatown". All kidding aside, this might be the prototype Chinatown (with the exception of China itself, of course) and still claims to be the biggest one in the West. I'm not sure how these things are judged, because Sydney claims to have, I believe, the second biggest Chinatown in the West, but the Chinatown in New York seems bigger than the SF one to me in terms of area and population, so that would put Sydney at #3 at best. I also doubt that Sydney is even that high. Regardless, this one presented streets as bustling as any I'd seen in the city and the familiar sights and smells of China-Towns everywhere.

I definitely took the opportunity to grab some steamed veg dumplings as a little pre-dinner snack and simply strode around, a gleeful smirk on my face, my feet aching from two massive days of rambling. My belly a veritable culinary UN, I sauntered off to my hotel, delighted to have a week of San Francisco's cosmopolitan offerings yet to come. - Anonymous

BEING YOUR - Own Muse

“I am my own muse. I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to know better.”- Frida Kahlo

"The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us, thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing."

There could be more or less of things, that might whittle away or stayed for a while at disposal that one drooled over & anxiously spittle.

I rather find it unnecessary to even step out - hunting on a lookout for reasons to amuse me, since I have already been surrounded by the ones that infuse me. Be it self indulgence to an awakening of my four-walled sane ecstasies of self-sufficient pampered roofed or partly insane musings around - so goofed.. Everything (lost & found) that goes, comes around, It's a human tendency - so in-bound. 

I often think about ‘how worthy I've been, no matter how heedless or keen. I've already undergone a sufficient amount of reasoning - my life had choicest of taste buds seasoning no different than yours, All the garnishing, varnishing, harnessing - from happily, peppier to sadist of tantrums tarnishing. Did you hear the sounds? The galore or partly deceiving drums. that played in rounds! 

I won't talk much about how?, probably you already know by now. You are most welcome, incase you are going to bring me any gift, but pardon me, no use! if at all you are going to engage me in a rift. I enjoy being my own muse, 'I hate being parted.' - If you catch my drift.

There is a remotest of possibility if at all anyone knew you in person other than your own very self, for best or worst. There was a whole wide world out there. You probably have your own world. Don't get me wrong, I ain’t high nosed, I am still grounded - so earthy. My world just doesn't finds you worthy. I sufficed well enough being a loner in solitude & peace with & I had no place vacant for anyone else to possibly hid. Are you going to pay me rent? wow (Well, incase you agreed upon that too, which I assumed you won't), I would still deny. I could empty my head & heart any moment now, but filling you up in would be difficult (that’s what I meant) - I ain’t going to accommodate you, just couldn’t. You could possibly be my guest for a while, but you can't stay in here forever or reconcile.

“Instead of discussing with myself every morning whether I feel inspired or not, I step into my office every day at nine sharp, open the window and politely ask the muse to enter and kiss me. Sometimes she comes in, more often she does not. But she can never claim that she hasn’t found me waiting in the right place.” - Peter Prange

I am still learning to become aware of how my beliefs and emotions color my perception of different events in my life. I am still trying to step out of my fabrications to experience the truth and spaciousness of what is.

Rather thunder on in bleak resistance, Swift to spoil and rigorous to deny, Than as thus to veil the sullen distance, With thy bleared and tear-stained sky.

We get fed-up or feed upon each other - it never stops. At times It gets befriended and at times I find it lost - trying to find it at any cost. The viciousness starts again & I am on the verge of hunting it down. - reaching any bit closer to it, with patience & wit. Agonized to see it disappear in vein & thrilled having found it again. It keeps slipping & running away from my sight & I am again caught up in this plight. I am out of my four-walled dwellings, I am out to this cage, with so much rage. We seem to be not even on the same page. I could, if I would, Oh I should! walk few miles, dismantle few tiles (searching for you) And just about when I thought my life was a less traveled one, I seem to be completely exhausted going places far & distant. Still coping. - I aint done.

‘Ere the limes with ruddy spear-points glimmer, Ere the greenness leap from bush to bush, While the starveling grass grows dim and dimmer, And the folded snowdrops push’

What you are, is what you be, and what you be is what you see. Doesn't matter how you are being acknowledge or looked up as or perceived - you don't have to change yourself for thee. Let the world think of you or take you as whatever it chooses to believe. You are what you make of yourself. You got to believe into something.

I am still trying - no matter how easy or hard it be. Change is not always good or bad - I am going to be better, I am going to be just me. I am going to live, & make it worth. My soul is my best friend forever and I would never let me deceive me. 

"Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced."

I am friends with it - At times, It makes everything so easier and light. We quarrel & end up in a fight. It even gets darker & lengthy - I still manage to keep up with my frenzy. We hang in there tight & loose - I am learning to wisely choose.

I am not alone, "I" is always a "we for me" & there is more to it - Anonymous

A Sunday Morning - IT USED TO BE

Old English (language of the Anglo-Saxons) name for Sunday, Sunnandæg, meaning "day of the sun." (Sun in Old Norse) - "All judges and city people and the craftsmen shall rest upon the venerable day of the sun"). From being a Lord's day and the day of Christ's resurrection to becoming the first day of the week.

"Joie de vivre" - a French phrase expressing a cheerful enjoyment of life; 'an exultation of spirit' meaning "joy of living" - that's how a Sunday used to make me feel.

There were those days when I used to have; awesome Sunday, sleepy Sunday, dreamy Sunday, family Sunday, away from school Sunday, television-time Sunday, food from out Sunday, happy Sunday, playful Sunday, settling Sunday, accomplished Sunday, pleasureful Sunday, cuddle-some Sunday, magical Sunday, lively Sunday, sufficing Sunday, have a break-Sunday & so on & at the end of the day all set(in no mood though) to confront the 'Monday musings' Sunday.

"I so wish I became a Sunday myself & holidayed ever-after with absolutely no work to do"

I remember when I was kid, how in those days, would sit glued to the television spending hours watching favorite programs on the idiot box, i would sit so close, that i would be reminded by everyone to go back, else the eyes would get spoil. I would happily sit close to the television set, watching my favorite serials - spending those golden moments, having my breakfast along. That was the time when we happened to use VCR's & there was no cable by that time internet invention had not invaded homes for personal use, we only used to have computers in school, that too during our computer classes, when we used to remove our shoes & enter inside the lab with an air-conditioner on. But Sunday was a holiday & we had to spend time at home, away from school & that was one day, I guess every child my age would have felt a sigh of relief, away from torturous studies & school tantrums. Reminding me how I used to seldom bunk my classes at school at some point, & how dear the canteen of the school came to our rescue with all the little pocket money that we used to get, despite having our lunch boxes being packed & wrapped around, that we had in our school bag with us.

Last Sunday, Alexander's grandparents gave him a dollar—and he was rich. There were so many things that he could do with all of that money.! He could buy as much gum as he wanted, or even a walkie-talkie, if he saved enough. But somehow the money began to disappear. - "Alexander, Who Used to Be Rich Last Sunday" - Paperback – Picture Book, 30 Aug 1987

"Oh, you can kiss me on a Monday - a Monday, a Monday is very, very good or you can kiss me on a Tuesday - a Tuesday, a Tuesday, in fact I wish you would or you can kiss me on a Wednesday, a Thursday, a Friday and Saturday is best, But never, never on a Sunday - a Sunday, a Sunday, 'cause that's my day of rest. Most any day you can be my guest - any day you say, but my day of rest. Just name the day that you like the best. Only stay away on my day of rest. Oh, you can kiss me on a cool day, a hot day, a wet day, which everyone you choose or try to kiss me on a gray day, a May day, a pay day, and see if I refuse and if you make it on a bleak day, a freak day, a week day, why you can be my guest - But never, never on a Sunday. - from the movie "Never on Sunday (1960)"

As as I grew, I learned that Sunday grew with me - also changed with me, now it had become just an ordinary one, like any other day.The Sunday that it used to be (fun-day) has no more fun in its existence. Sunday - A day when the postman & the wont be troubling you & ringing your bells or bringing you any parcels & letters or taking away your trash. It was only the rag-picker, a junk man (scavenger - 'a scrap collector) who would give you money for things you did not wanted anymore.

These deeply instilled 'anxiety provoking' memoirs of the past, present & a worrying future  that had me sinking & rinsing through & through in a tankful thoughtful turbulence of the tiny-winy bit to shapes so gigantic high & low - These phenomenal phenomenons would hit me now & then & disappear into forgetfulness of this & that..The day slapping you & making you slip away from the most task-full of tasks turning you into unsorted sorts (a procrastinator). Fleeing away(ignoring) from the necessary, necessarily wouldn't make them disappear. Ignorance wasn't a necessity that only happened on a Sunday, but it happened on every day-each day. If at all - everyday was a Sunday - now a forgetful Sunday. I have grown-up, hopefully willing to adapt & attend the chorefull of tasks -everything that's now a necessity, but uncertainties hold me back even now & I feel like a child enjoying everyday as a Sunday - An intentionally forgetful yet food for thought Sunday. Nuisances of a busy life on six days a week, as it seems, but a day, one day that calms all down - a Sunday, A weekend day. What a relief.

Now it was 'a'- procrastinating Sunday, tumbling Sunday, fatigued Sunday, distracting Sunday, bony Sunday, dying Sunday, spying Sunday, unsettling Sunday, bitchily Sunday, conjuring Sunday, give-up Sunday, a wasteful Sunday, meddling Sunday, viscous Sunday, shitty Sunday, fucking Sunday, torturous Sunday, struggling Sunday.   

sigh! If not all days' I do wish I had one Sunday morning, (I so wish, everyday though) with a smiley face & no frowns, believing that everything was going to be alright, and I would breathe. "Measuring up & bundling - trying to find solace, becoming tolerant & then unpacking every layer that suffocated".

"If not something extraordinary, this at least should be, could be an ordinarily-flawless Sunday & never ever a vulnerable Someday" - Anonymous

The Rainbow.My Re-Union

"I don't think God cares where we were graduated or what we did for a living. God wants to know who we are. Discovering this is the work of the soul - it is our true life's work." - Bernie Siegel

My beliefs(few based on the ones I have been filled with, few taught, few experienced, few learned, few witnessed) are caricature of my emotional, mental & physical well-being, In colorful shades & hues of a rainbow that has overwhelmed my very existence & ruling out any one of it is a difficult task. I would have no color, if I had no belief' I would have no belief if there was no color. life would be quite dull with only shades of grey, black & white. My perceptions would be baseless if I had no fondness evolved involving my so called beliefs coming out of the wisdom of life. I live until I believe' the day I stop believing I would live no more. The more I trust on the beliefs, more concrete they exist to me & my faith dwells on thee deeper. The more visible my rainbow gets, more submerged I find myself into. Learning is all about experiencing & experiencing is all about learning - I would not have or even vouch for a baseless belief unless & until i witness thee' though thy shall have no color at times 'the more the merrier' either of them complimenting each other likewise in there full glorified intensity & propensity.

There have been times, I have witnessed quite a repulsive, contradictory, yet practical, logical answers to my beliefs, with colors blooming in full swing, and colorless hues in shady pigmentation. We often step out of our fabrications in quest of the truth & spaciousness of "What Is"' & more I grow, I become even more happier to have learned from them inch by inch'. They  haunt me no further, and keep me alive, for I question no more to thy' I feel content with whatsoever they tell me' & stay with me' coloring my artsy character in shades unknown.

Well I am happily married to my thoughts & even have extra marital affairs with knowledge, learning processes, ideologies, values & experience after being separated & divorced from the social stigma of an uneventful union of social marriage. I have responsibilities & obligations (as my kids), towards people who are close & attached to me, those I intend to take care of in all possible ways. Moreover I have 'I, Me & myself', with everything & anyone else.

My chores of course tie me in an eventful of wicked, tricky & vague tasks at time, but then things get sorted.

I have learned to live an eventful busy life, with all the time i spend knowing myself & self realizing on to things & people(how humans work). growing in the process & learning to live.

A soulful loner always finds things to keep oneself busy with whatever is necessarily a necessity & essential to survive, whether its about trying to find content, keeping peace & balance or  socializing, with lesser regrets.

I am in a trustworthy never ending relationship with myself and everything that summons it all up pretty loud & clear - & few silently whispered. Now I better shut-up & talk no more, and settle down, doing much greater things that are in my bucket list.  - Anonymous