Monday, December 21, 2015

Elusive Butterfly & a Jaded Caterpillar

The same old, sane prudent me in the insane  paranoid world, trying to ‎pull up my sock. ‬Its cold with many cold hearts around. I still manage to stay warm with thee. Getting older & growing up - Life is indeed a state, all staged, assuming grass on the other side to be greener always. I wish I could exchange places with a much greener one. I wont mind flowers too! fingers crossed!

I feel stuck in a love triangle with an elusive butterfly with powerful wings and a jaded caterpillar who won’t move their legs further because it’s too cold outside. I feel my raw, animal side, clashing with my comfort seeking-solace yearning interior.

A Journey of all my curious questions, that rise within,and end there! , finding answers, starting from within and ending to thee. A path to thy vivid thoughtful Imaginations. Illuminated light In the darkest most. The quoted and coded, relevance of finding thee dispersed layers, in the process.

They say, a little change, can change you, having said that, Hair Cut - I just had one! I danced after ages on a peppy number & a sad melodramatic one, and watch myself as I did that, it's fun. yay! Shaken and stirred, exhausted after the miraculous act of pretending that I could dance pretty well, though I had my own crooked, lame self made steps - I had this inner joy & sorrow of doing something that I wanted to, the things that I could have  done more often, and things, that I wish I could. Of all the different reasons, that let me do, what I did, was to get that little bling in me back, and bounce!

If only! I could be stoned and act as if I am dead, in public, I could jump & run, and shout, and give a flying kiss, or smooch thee. If only I could talk to myself and stare thee, I could wrap myself around in leaves and enter a public library. I have seen many weird people, doing weird things, but I am just being myself. If only! Who is stopping you?

And If you do not discover yourself, if you do not unwrap the chaos inside of you, nobody will ever get to know the real you and you will stand in disappointment at all the closed doors you missed for all the wrong reasons.

I have lived with, strolled by, witnessed, those who say I love you, and the ones who hate all together for no rhyme or reason, and the ones who might just have an agenda, or maybe it's for the heck of it, they are afraid to loose you, for you are the only thing that they are clinging on to, and aware they stand, they shall have nothing and nobody else, if this one was lost. It would forever,irrespective of not having the same love or a feeling of hatred that used to be, or it never was eventually. Maybe it was just a phase that came and went. I don't blame them, its like we all are the culprits, including me - I am not denying that very fact. Now that's how love works in Loveland, you start to loose the fondness & the same sparky tender, puppy love, infatuated inclination - now that too can be because of several reason, many more triangles and squares, and circles that go pathways in motion, lack of sex, lustful or lust less faithfulness or unfair shades of grey. hatred on the other hand has a handful of peculiar thoughtful or unperceived righteous perception of doing it there way. Both can grow, fade, diminish, live & die forever and the viciousness. Ever wondered how many of those you ever heard or reciprocated back, how deep they touched, how often heartfelt, how far and near did they make things end. Conclusive yet dramatic, blunt and pampered was to let you know, thy fondness or fuck you. I can be with you not just because I want you, its because you want me & in the same way, I want to be with you, and not be alone & secluded.

Tired of thee artificial obligatory soberness! Enough of just being not me anymore! Sickened with the fake mirage expressionists. Its just with everyone, I tell you, closest and the far, the
wrongful and the fairest of all. These ego pretending games, and running in a race, where everything seems artificially intellectual yet fake. All I want is to be happy deep inside, with happiness that comes to me naturally and isn't a misguided one. I with no reason to give it a second thought could do what I wanted to, not worried about the socio-ego. No matter of what age I was. Why do we have to stagnate with such obligations, Why are we so lost and sad to be lonely, (Yes we are, no matter how much we deny that) and in constant need for such securities that bind us up altogether.

Discomforted comfort, agonized rejoice, painful peace, reality disguised. No matter how jeopardized and ruined my remains lie, thy child within me never died, and will never ever. Even after I am nowhere, I will be somewhere. The End - Vicious circle!. The story, just started getting excited.
To say a person is a happy person or an unhappy person is ridiculous. We are a thousand different kinds of people every hour. - Anthony Doerr

I guess, I could be one of those, different, yet same for ever.

Now loving myself for no reason is the best thing I could do, a reason though would just earn you one by itself. but not over do it.  - Anonymous

Sunday, December 6, 2015

Barbarian Boxers,The Rebellious Kettle

The ‪idea‬ that ‪eating‬ should be a ‪‎classy act, and one should wear boxers, for that matter wear anything, is a barbarian concept invented by beauty magazines. 

It took me an hour and two, to finish my boiled eggs, along with the cold coffee being churned in the mixer at the same time, and what went side by side, in hand, was cleaning all sort of avoided peeled egg shells, the coffee spills here and there. Giving the kettle a fresh clean, to boil in the potatoes, for later.

Well I could have made myself sit pampering my self to a luxurious meal, dine in, watching a movie, or listening to music, while I surfed the net, but I decided, I would rather be on the go, and carry on with the chores. Now if somebody asks me what keeps me busy, there are hailstorms, and tornados on my mind, that don't let me settle with peace. Well what could suffice a hungry heart, is all that you could eat & drink, quenching thy self. No matter in what state of chaos your mind is, you will always find reasons to hog on to like one chirpy small birdy, or one giant creature. There is nothing best that can give you a land slide, paralleled or in different trajectories of plateful playfulness. From a state of happy, joyful or a molested tormented state of agony those fond ways to get busy with and avoid the unnecessary.

Mediocre humane being is one average fellow who is insane at times, who is no different from a dog, that shall wag its tail whenever its offered a bone. If only I could have saved myself from such ridicule effort, but I guess I enjoyed it equally though criticizing at times. Wallah! "God help those who help themselves" saying Amen to that.

These Red ‪‎Rolling Stones‬ Boxers, with Mouth and Tongue Out insignia pleases me as much as it blushes me to an haww. This thing deliberately rolls down my waist ever time I wear it, and at times off down to my feet. damn elastic. I don't wanna do away with it, but wonder how hilariously awkward it would be, if I don't hold on to it every time, and it just falls off, at time, least expected, that too when someone is watching. No way I am going to buckle it up/wear a belt on thee boxer, or tuck it in with a safety pin, that's just insane. It sure is Rolling down every time, I am going to be stoned to shame, if anything happens. I better do something about it. Its awkward to watch your pants go down, and pull it up.  - Had a pretty much sober yet hard day being in them.

This Kettle when plugged in, have been making weird noises from the time I boiled brown eggs in thee. I went close trying to hear thee. To my surprise it sounded like little new born birds chirping ,what the heck, and after a while it sounded like some horrid ghostly haunted voices. The kettle was not working fine as it used too. I thought of giving it a wash, and clean that unnoticed layer of everything settled on to its base that was keeping it low and it won't heat up properly. Good Lord, thank God, now its back to thy normal state. Enough of those sounds. Sigh, phew!

Settling down to this kettled tomato Soup pouch, gulping down the spinach, pepper, coriander leaves with a hint of cream & butter, settled and tucked in to my pyjamas, boxers off you go!. Damn it's cold.

I’m not strange, weird, off, nor crazy, ‪my reality‬ is just different from yours. - Anonymous

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Monsters Under My Bed

As a child, I would always check under my bed for monsters. I would be afraid of them getting hold of my leg,and pulling me down under from that dark hollow gap that was there between the bed and the floor. Making me more cautious of not letting my leg swing down touching the floor, I kept unwell those days,and it was a hard time that lasted really long, a troublesome period for me and my parents,specially at nights. I think back and come to a realization of why and how it was there then. There is always a logic to a rationale or a meaningless one. The deeper you dig,you get answers for all that happened for a reason. I no longer look under my bed now, but at tomes these shadows imaginary of self proclaimed haunt me ,fright me, and I would find peace with all that is positive and let the negate drive away. Its the same thing with few dreams, that are so rural' you can't just figure out how and why of it. There is always a sign of things happening in and around you' its just that we are being guided and warned and protected eventually.

& Nowadays' I don't feel earthquakes at all unless there is something very powerful that shakes me or vibrates me. I guess we are less grounded these days, then we were earlier, and we all are on the verge of flying midway between a lot of chaos that all together keeps us busy and on the go. Therefore its hard to feel ,and even understand, if you were hit by an earthquake. Besides all the time there is so much of quacking around, you hardly get to know if earth quacked. No matter how much I tried to be with silence and stay grounded, its this viciousness of nuances that hinder the agenda, and loose focus. Besides often I feel being vibrated now and then, and not every time I guess it could be an earthquake making me witness itself.

Contrast of tremors in all forms, imaginary to the real ones.shaking our very being, the pettiest fed nothingness to the emotionally led turmoil.

I had the certitude I was going crazy for years. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year. I did not imagine my life moving forward in a satisfactory way. I looked at traffic lights and expected to be enlightened. I looked at stars and trees. I looked at clouds. I couldn’t look at people any more. I thought about disappearing at all costs. Going away from this world,. From this place, looking for life some place else.

It seemed like a reset button had been pushed, opening up a clean slate. I had changed, and I had a mission: to build my personality all over, to eliminate the faulty parts and strive for self-improvement.

But there was nothing more materialistic and emotional then the bed I spend sleeping my childhood on, the earthquakes that it doesn't let me feel.- Anonymous

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Climbing up the Loft

I was no Tomb Raider, Lara Croft! Seems like some people are infected with irony the moment they open their eyes.

I was to climb up this ‪loft‬, fingers crossed, with the half alive,ruined corroded ladder, piece of solid junk. days passe, had been a while, avoiding, trying to bunk. Carried it up on my shoulders, all the way from the spider webbed & dried accumulated piles of leaves laden garage.

Tell me about it. huh. no no, no way I was mesmerized by the exclusionary, wishful, willful mirage. After several attempts of thoughtfulness and placement of the steady, well grounded thee, me, In countless numbers ,those chants ran down to thy fright flee. I climbed up. & looked down, scared, eventually happy, I dared.

The only thing that, bothered me was, how would I be back on thee. Humpty Dumpty did not wanted to fall, whatever the call be. sigh!. Trunks... more of them and all. The low ceiling could not keep me raised up straight, neither space ,where myself I could place. Not ventilated on the other end, through the glassed grilled fitting, I stood there bend. I could not do it all alone, and would take up a while. I only picked up, what I could, & glanced all thee that lied. Maybe soon enough, would take stairs ,way up to the heaven's grind, until then, may I be sound and in gracious mind.

Self appreciated. It was time for a self appraisal, praising thy for, all well, that ended well. still wondered, where did the whole idea came from, and what ranged the bell? I guess, I do everything I think possible or acceptable to escape from this trap. no matter how crap. Well yes yes, you got me right, we all do, what we ought to, and eventually get out from the darker trajectories out to see the light.

Eyes closed - Anonymous

Saturday, September 19, 2015

The Emptied Nothingness

There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. ― Leonard Cohen

After few minutes of struggling, strangled me, peeling off thy shell. & while I ate, bothered imagining new innovative ideas to embellish the boiled salted egg, I was no fucking chef' & an egg was an egg, and it was going to be one, not turning out to be a chicken. crap! this was utter nonsense. followed by insanely playing merry go around with the spoon, in thy tea cup, in circles, letting thy sugar melt, I could let it keep going on and on, irritated by thee extra jumped & poured out one, that was a nuance to wipe. sigh.

This egg looked at me, as I scrubbed skimmed,unlayered it naked,examining
it before I gulped & swallowed. yes yes, I am all boiled well' as if it said to me, ascertaining me for a ready steady diet to the core. The sugar on the other hand, screamed, I am stirred pretty well by now & shaken to the core, enough, please stop it.

There was just everything that irritated me now. and with everything I came into being with, there was this chaos of dilemma, for good or worst, that had my heart and wit hosting it, leaving me ponder later on. Scooping away that very bit of my thoughtfulness into an active state, out of no where.

"Listen to me, your body is not a temple. Temples can be destroyed and desecrated. Your body is a forest - thick canopies of maple trees and sweet scented wildflowers sprouting in the underwood. You will grow back, over and over, no matter how badly you are devastated"

"I want to love you like an open field. A place large enough for you to release the heavy creatures of your heart. A place large enough for you to wander and all you see for miles and miles is me".

So, it did rained almost whole night a day before. restless me, in between those long hour naps, to the not so sound sleepy one. I just had nothing to do. I wanted to sleep, but I had enough of it already, and I wanted to sleep again, but It did not happened, so I decided to do nothing about it, and just let it go. I just did not had nothing to do. and did not wanted to either. I just wanted one good sleep. I was just tired of doing everything as much was as tired of sleeping. I just wanted to figure it out for once, how did it felt being empty, doing nothing, and still trying to reconcile with the whole day long surrounding of you adapting to your own self, and your body adapting to the nothingness.I decided to go back to bed, and try sleeping again.

You know what, you got a beautiful house, I would love to gift it to my mother' she said, coming closer to thy open bathroom entrance, where she found me cleaning my green bath tub. "what stuck me was, now that she would see me doing things in real, that I texted and updated over these social networking sites" ‪- ah, just a dream‬, for as little thee,thy sound sleep might have fell onto me.

There could be no more sleep. ascertained with the fact, everything else seemed endless and empty, I looked at the walls, gazed sky, there was no moment in everything dead in me and around. there was this haunted nostalgia, that recycled & repeated itself. It was like a copy paste, & this viciousness, that came from no where and brought all those thoughts, that had nothing to do with anything that was, not at all there, and there was this me, who had absolutely nothing to look on to. My body was telling me, you just could not sleep anymore, but my mind was willing to do just the opposite, for there was in nothing that I found solitude anymore in, and there was no curiosity left within to get myself lured to anything that could kill my time. I had absolutely nothing to my disposal & I just wandered, there might be just be a life other then eating,sleeping
,bathing. It seemed everything else was passe, and there was this stillness, though not so very calm, that had brought me closer to this nothingness, the emptied self, drained out, wanting to just rest in peace.

Forget the chores,that could amuse you, or wit full agendas that you promised yourself to put in some effort on to, tasks that, you would sit for hours. making the most of your day, those made you kill all the time. Lately because of this seasonal change, utter heat and no drizzles at all, beside me being to engrossed in everything else, not putting in effort to take out time to water my plants, they seem to be loosing there green leaf life. When I look at them, they and me seem to be so much alike. twins from another mother, I tell you.

I could hear my self talking to me, I never realized what happened to the cover, that left the pillow uncovered,while
I slept, One edge of the bed, that I would mesh & cuddle myself in, and try to sleep, and wake up on the other side of the edge, when I heard the birds chirping, or would wake on to a disturbed craving for a bath, that could ease my sweat ice cream, or something to eat, or drink, & then back to this sleep. I was marching(no sleep walking). My mind ordered me on these regular intervals. to get up, sleep, feed myself up, clean myself up.and do all that, as if it was a high rank military official who would let thy do, what it deemed.
I just scolded these noise makers(squirrels), making all those weird funny, loud ones, at wee hours Lemme go and feed them up with something, I said to myself, and then this Sleep overtook me, and we decided to cuddle on the bed, amongst pillows, and follow the routine.
Maybe I was in a state of depression, where I had recently lost a great deal of data, that was there on my laptop, & may be it was all because I had been in an over pursued attempt to trying harder to make it all work so real bad, that I had lost it completely. There have been other traits that followed along with it though, that more or less harnessed the blast furnace even more.

Wires Wires Everywhere - "Mirror Mirror on the Wall' tell me which one is the happiest of all?.

Scratching my head, holding on to thy, looking at the Pandora of floppy disks(in all colours) , aah what I do with these thousands of them, loitering around off and on, every time I open up this big suitcase, which has almost everything more then 1. mouse, keyboards, modem, cd's, cables, adapters, wires, display cards, ink cartridges. sigh! me struggling to still find years and years after, every time, ways of putting them to use all together still, and abandoning them for while again, still not want them to leave me and go. memories I tell you. & those were the days when everything as petite was so damn costly, & now it turns that all of this passe junk is way too old for thy present.

Tired of looking at all the gadgetry that lies around me, bored of it to the chore, not wanting to hold it up, and turn it on. Not been online much lately, just feels pretty much safe being away from it. much safe, less sound, it all seems to be, for as if my system lost few drivers, and needed much intelligent update, and real bad one, real soon.

"Humans are low energy batteries. Don’t touch them if you don’t like the itchy feeling".
There is so much to be done, and very less time to get it all sorted, despite, though, if, but, and why, how juggle up my thoughtfulness and very being in all those emotional, mental and physical ways. - Anonymous

“What reck I of such evil? / Thy pride hath thee betrayed,
That thou deem’st my homage / should e’er to thee be paid.
Know thou in truth full certain / the thing may never be:
Nor shall I e’er be ready / to look for faithful friend in thee.”

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

This Tiny Pang of Regret

Tell me,isn’t it ‪tragic‬? to ‪open yourself up like a museum‬, to turn yourself inside out, only to have everything stolen under the night.

I’ve got this tiny pang of regret when I think of how much I have probably missed out on in the last few years because I was too scared to take a risk, or too shy to speak up, or too worried to be bold.

You think that you are an iconoclast, but you’re not. You just move, or replace what you cannot have. If you fail at something, you retreat into something else. Nothing changes you.

I left you because I knew I could never change you. You would stand in the room so still sometimes, as if the greatest betrayal of yourself would be to reveal one more inch of your character.

I also believe that introversion is my greatest strength. I have such a strong inner life that I’m never bored and only occasionally lonely. No matter what mayhem is happening around me, I know I can always turn inward.

Once I had started my solitude, I realized anew that it was easy for me to become accustomed to this state and that the most effortless existence for me was in fact in one in which I was not obliged to speak to anyone. My fretful attitude to life left me. Each dead day had its charm.

I’ll never know, and neither will you, of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore.

Millions of people have decided not to be sensitive. They have grown thick skins around themselves just to avoid being hurt by anybody. But it is at great cost. Nobody can hurt them, but nobody can make them happy either.

I am thankful for my struggle because without it, I wouldn’t have stumbled upon my strength.

I am besieged by such strange thoughts, such dark sensations, such obscure questions, which still crowd my mind - and somehow I have neither the strength nor the desire to resolve them. It is not for me to resolve all this!

So you're always honest," I said. "Aren't you?" "No," I told him. "I'm not." "Well, that's good to know, I guess.""I'm not saying I'm a liar," I told him. He raised his eyebrows. "That's not how I meant it, anyways." "How'd you mean it, then?" "I just...I don't always say what I feel." "Why not?" "Because the truth sometimes hurts," I said. "Yeah," he said. "So do lies, though.”

- Anonymous

Thursday, August 6, 2015

The 3 Questions

My mother tells me, that when I meet someone I like, I have to ask them three questions: 1. what are you afraid of? 2. do you like dogs? 3. what do you do when it rains? Of those three, she says the first one is the most important.

“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”

I met you on a Sunday, right after church. one look and my heart fell into my stomach like a trap door. On our second date, I asked you what you were afraid of. “Spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.” I asked you if you liked dogs.I have three.” I asked you what you do when it rains.“Sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”. He smiled like he knew. Like his mom told him the same thing.

“How about you?”

Me? I’m scared of everything. Of the hole in the o-zone layer, Of the lady next door who never smiles at her dog, and especially of all the secrets the government must be breaking it’s back trying to keep from us. I love dogs so much, you have no idea. I sleep when it rains. I want to tell everyone I love them. I want to find every stray animal and bring them home. I want to wake up in your hair and make you shitty coffee and kiss your neck and draw silly stick figures of us.I never want to ask anyone else these questions ever again. - Anonymous

Sunday, July 26, 2015

The Morning Crow

There’s a brief moment when you first wake up where you have no memories, a blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness, but it doesn’t last long and you remember exactly where you are and what you are trying to forget.

Standing by the road, outside the corridors not very far of my balcony adjoining my home counterparts at those pretty much wee hours of an early morning, trying to breathe in the freshness of the morning wind. A Noticeable though attempt to the settled moist humid mud layered onto those fragmented laden winds and somewhere between those smudged unnoticeable track of clouds passing by, My eyes leaned down to my very existence of thy surrounding that must have had many a stories to tell. Unspoken unresistingly paused and cautiously mum by the morning still a fresh and new, to all those that was passe a night before and to all that, which was untold, unseen ,lost somewhere in the glorified sunshine peaking its way out from those golden outlined clouded skyline. One more day that made me day older, and a day wiser, caught into my chores of daily nuances, there was quite a bit left ,on the list to address to and get over with, by the passing day.

Pretty much noticeable, there came a crow ,struggling with a yellow piece of sheet of paper lying on the road, which had something stuck on to it, assuming it to be a rat most probably, I vigilantly kept watching the crow attending to this vicious activity. Trying to get off this thing off, the crow made several attempts with his beak, grounded on to the sheet holding on to it with one of his legs, despite the sheet went left and right, as I moved my head and eyes noticing the very playfulness chore of this crow who made an effort full attempt to break a leg. Meanwhile there was a group of several other crows that came down following the sight. By the time this all happened, the poor crow had somehow got one of his wing stucked to the sheet, and no matter how hard he tried flying around and letting it off him, he could not. Somehow he managed to take this short flight with the wing still stuck to this sheet, entering in this balcony of my next door neighbor. Everything by that time was hidden behind those parked cars and the rest of the crows followed him,and he was surrounded by an irony of kinds.

"People once believed, that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens, that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes the crow could bring that soul back to put the wrong things right."

I don't know what happened to this little fellow, did he made up to his own rescue, coming out of it and feeding on to his fetched breakfast, or did the others made there way to it, and for how long it all went. There was this vague thought that was troubling me, this story about the crow ,who was thirsty and made his way to quench his thirst by putting pebbles in that pot, letting water rise, so his beak could happily reach inside the pot and he could no longer be a restless thirsty one. Pretty much with a positive thought provoking folklore that gathered in me the strength to forces and something made me sure, that the wit and effort would come in handy, rescuing every task ,no matter it be a crow or anyone for that matter.

"I was like the cock who thought the sun had risen to hear me crow"

I came back in, completely forgotten about what I just witnessed, with a bunch of flowers that I had gathered, from the balcony corridors that were fallen down on the outskirts. Letting them flow on the glass bowl full of water, kept near the window, to my room, that had by now a ray of thick sunlight falling on to it.

Strangely I felt everything making sense out of senseless nuances of a morning parody with no linguistic attributes that came into being.The crow, the wind ,flowers, and the sunlight came following this morning, just like any other day. It was just that I stood there outside witnessing it.. - A realization.

"Victims, aren't we all"- Eric Draven

Oh, something is there, waiting for me. Perhaps someday the revelation will burst upon me and I will see the other side of this monumental grotesque joke. And then I’ll laugh. And then I’ll know what life is. - Anonymous.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Come of Age - My Escort & my Cage

You look great, are you on a diet? No, no, no, I am not a fat little boy, and I know I’ve gained some weight. But you see, I happen to like pinching the rolls on my abdomen,

Fate. As a child, that word was often my only companion. It whispered to me from dark corners during lonely nights. It was the song of the birds in spring and the call of the wind through bare branches on a cold winter afternoon. Fate. Both my anguish and my solace. My escort and my cage.

Yesterday, mom put me to bed. She told me a story, a new one, she said. Her beautiful story was a tasty bait.Yesterday, i was only eight. I woke up with throbs in my head,My pink curtains were so white, instead. But, my dolls still stared the same.They never told me whom to blame. Was it mom who wished I grow? I saw her dandelions fly, as she used to blow. Or perhaps i have slept for too long.As she sang me my favorite song! My hair's now longer, my nails are French. I saw the differences on every inch. But, as well as i can recall,. I've never wished for this, not at all!

I still get very high and very low in life. Daily. But I’ve finally accepted the fact that sensitive is just how I was made, that I don’t have to hide it and I don’t have to fix it. I’m not broken. I must learn to love the fool in me - the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries.

Lately I had this lucid dream that the phone rang and it was my deceased mother. I knew it was a dream but I thought it was really her and that she could contact me in the dream state. I was frightened to talk to her but I didn't want to let that show and hurt her feelings, so I tried to act cheerful and make banal conversation. I said "Hi, how are you?" She said, "I'm pregnant‬." I thought she must have gone insane and think she's alive and young again, but to humor her I asked, "Are you going to have a boy or a girl?" She said, "I am going to be a girl." I felt more and more uncomfortable and said, "I've got to go now; I'll talk to you later," and hung up. As soon as I woke up, the dream sounded like a reincarnation statement but during the dream it just sounded crazy and threatening somehow.

The day dawns, with scent of must and rain, Of opened soil, dark trees, dry bedroom air. Under the fading lamp, half dressed -- my brain Idling on some compulsive fantasy -- I towel my shaven jaw and stop, and stare, Riveted by a dark exhausted eye, A dry down-turning mouth. It seems again that it is time to learn, In this untiring, crumbling place of growth To which, for the time being, I return.Now plainly in the mirror of my soul I read that I have looked my last on youth And little more. Below my window the wakening trees, Hacked clean for better bearing, stand defaced Suffering their brute necessities; And how should the flesh not quail, that span for span Is mutilated more? In slow distaste I fold my towel with what grace I can, Not young, and not renewable, but man.

There will be a few times in your life when all your instincts will tell you to do something, something that defies logic, upsets your plans, and may seem crazy to others. When that happens, you do it. Listen to your instincts and ignore everything else. Ignore logic, ignore the odds, ignore the complications, and just go for it. ―Judith McNaugh

All I know if someone did asked me" Hello, how are you"? I would reply - I am doing well, thank you, I breathe fire, but do not worry, I am dragon and I am invincible - Anonymous.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Utterly, Buttery & Delicious

Live a balanced life. Learn some and think some, and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some. - Robert Fulghum

Scratching my butt's in between just anything to everything, makes me feel so prehistoric. Despite a well shampooed bath, and soap at every inch of my flesh recently, this summer seems to have made me behave like one itchy-chimpanzee.

"Its been a quadrennium & more buckets of water give me much peace, for as little it might be, adding to my essential survival remedy. Believe me I ain't a xerophyte. I need water too."

Weird times, you fall in a sleep, and by the time you get up, you have to think about what to eat and drink, attending to the left over chores of a day to day walks of life. and at the end you are so tired, doing noting. that you fall a prey to this viscous circle of yawns and a nocturnal lifestyle.

Well I decided to write this, with no good sleep coming to my avail, in a fully drizzling water cooler air conditioned state, rescuing my itchiness,with bare butt exposed to it, finding peace to my thoughtfulness with a clear,sober mental and physical state of lying down on the bed, listening to these fine instrumental classics & typing. I was somewhere in between these two fascinated ones. the left side of me, enjoyed the music. and the right side of enjoyed the blowing winds, water drops that have almost dried, that drizzled though and part of my flesh was in a state of warm & cold tempera, that made me shift myself upside down in between, taking breaks. gulping down to these delicious, few pieces of musk melon & papaya, that are kept in a bowl,next to me.

This next door neighbor, who I have know for pretty long, there were those childhood days when we used to interact much and did some art together. Seeing her lately again after a long time on the road, strolling by, with her petted four leg breed. Besides her, there have been several four leggers, who often pass by, and surround me with there two legged breeders. It was nice to ,hear, what's up from her, but then the conversation was as little as ,nothing much,you say, going on. and there it ended, before it even started.Thankfully somebody notice, that I still existed. I decided to catch hold of her next time, asking to share numbers, and connecting on the social networking means. But to no avail, could I see her lately, and today again, I saw her, but by the time, was busy dressing up a little more sober, clean and smart, by the time I came out, she had already vanished. I guess I need to be a little more handy next time. She looked young and beautiful then before, in a boy cut hairdo, I remember she had a pony before.Though in the darkness of this late evening, there was not much that I could perceive out, but as little as I did, there often were times, when you felt talking to this opposite sex. Maybe you could get a little worthy of a better conversation. & please don't mistake me for being a Don Juan.

Often I am in a state of too down to earth, dressed in petite state of the untidy,loose, body hair baring ones, clothes, that one could possibly avoid me. I tell you, this heat has been doing no good to me. As much ,I do pretend, wearing clothes, deep down inside me, I say to my self, remove them all. Now here is a Secret - I don't wear nothing, at all, when I am In. so I need to get up find clothes,dress up, and come to a sober state, when I need to come out of the box. Sometimes I am over piled then just one, & that are the times, when I try to fit in those over crowded, tight, ill-fitting clothes, that just look good on you, and make you look sober & mature. Why not. could we just no longer be kids, dressed in diapers, or nothing at all, all day long and had no worries and botheration at all.

To be capable of embarrassment is the beginning of moral consciousness. Honor grows from qualms. We are so vain that we even care for the opinion of those we don't care for.

Well lately, I have come down to a conclusion of walking and running away from this and that to a place away, where I shall no more fall into petite overrated bitter, hollow conversations,
that lack awakening characteristics and only cause lazy shuffle to the mental state of physical intolerance and jeopardize this state of pink health into a rotten one. There is so much that a little mind, often considered as the heaviest weighing part of the human bony structure.I feel disappointed with the people I have been doing face to face these days,there seems to be this peculiar state of no content, smuggled self centered, disoriented, vein and physic hysteria, that follows, and no matter how intellectual a dialogue could be brought into a conversation, there are only the remains of the ill odds that are there to chant & discuss, and Its like that viscous cycle of no talks, but never ending task of insane repenting over, dragging issues, merely pointless. the virtue of sanity degrades to a level of this hollowness, that find no path to lead to anymore on a positive note.I cant simply latch myself up all day long in a closeted walls and roof of my own boxed Pandora and meditate.too much of meditating would make me an old & dull cenobite. I could simple avoid the unnecessary hassle which followed me, or maybe I was the one following it for too long, and bumped into such buttering cheesy annotations over a conversation that was vague, and never existed to the core. I guess i need to hide up, myself a little, and try not to bump into odds of such conversations and faces, that are a such a negate chaos of utter nuisance.

I am so happy that dogs don't talk at all. they just make noises. & so the birds. and cats, and so on. so what if they ever started a conversation, we could never understand it, so it makes no difference at all, to no matter, what we could presume and assume, if they ever said, or understood to, what we say to them.

"When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart"

I would rather sit and talk to myself, and let me hear me. See myself and let me see me.I need to hear no more, see no more, speak no more.specially the ill. I shall praxis thy and abjure by. if now that makes me a cogent Gandhian Monkey, Let it be. I would rather be this breed then anything else. I need salivated peace.

Meanwhile, in between the break, went out on the outer skirts,to fag,looking at the clouded sky, and a full moon night,- the moon- - more beautiful, little winds. Looking at it, I almost possibly forgot a lot of that I had.

In belief, it was a step in the right direction that would eventually lead to abolishment of the ugsome deeds befalling all of them & behoove me on a longer run.

- Anonymous

Monday, June 29, 2015


This briefly perceived , incalculable state of my mind, as far as I can recall.

As far as I can remember. One fine day, with a sigh to this cold blush of wind that blew pass by my face, in this scotching heat that roofed me up, as much it(nature) goofed me up.

Me and my friend on our way, moving further, taking baby steps followed by a conversational gossip to this laundry man's house (Dhobi Waala), which was just a walk away, across the road, from my home. The only thing that divided us was the road that stood parallel in between the demarcated residential plots.

A layered piece of cloth, covering half of the entrance, watching him seated in an old wicker rocker which was there, I called him, he withdrew his glance from the newspaper and looked at us.

Handing him over with this shirt on a hanger, that was of my friend, who had to get it ironed, and then leave for work , straight from my place.We waited there, outside his place,

Mud all around, fallen laid these dead dried leaves,in between the partly grass grown at intervals in that deserted piece of land. Cemented , demented, bended & cracked, walls, overlapped and hidden by these several sheets of fabric with holes of all size and shapes. A red bicycle, a broken stool, a wood bench and this mirror on one of those walls, with a comb and a sink and soap kept.

Never ever did I got the chance to go invading there privacy and explore. I would always stand outside, whenever I was to come to them.

The not so convincing covered blue sheet on this logically forceful walls holding this temporary asbestos roof. they had no proper doors, only sheets of fabric converted curtains that demarcated the entrance keeping there inferior & insufficient state of privacy to these hidden shades of grey.

There were as many as eight or more of them living in that small place, i wondered how they managed & survived?, asking to myself. Piled up pieces of laundry kept all tied up in a knotted big cloth, a short and a blouse, a saree, washed & hung to dry.

We stood there, waiting for the the task to get finished real quick util we were handed over with this shirt o the hanger nicely ironed.

After we paid him, what he asked for, we were on our way back. As I approached my friend to return him this balance, to my surprise, and utter confusion, there was no one beside me, and the shirt was in my hand on the hanger that we had brought from home. I tried to look around ,could not find nothing, terrified by the fact that, there was no one, not even the laundry man and any remains of his house and belongings. Everything else had just vanished.

Numbed to this very sight, I could not move my foot no more, no matter how hard I tried to escape and move away from this place towards my home. As if something or someone strangled me, tied me up, and was not letting me leave. All I could hear was this police van siren, that came from somewhere far, the wind, started playing its tactics, blowing the shirt away from my hand, & all of a sudden making it invisible at the next very minute. Tightly holding on to this wooden hanger, I stood there, for some minutes, in almost lost state of this fearful fit.

Seconds later ,in a snap, out of it. rescued away, to a little alert state of waking up from this weird illusion that had been dreaming, I woke up, looking around, seeing this hanger kept aside,on my bed, next to this pillow. half dozed and half sighted me, picking myself away from the bed peaking outside my window, to watch the laundry mans house. Thankfully it was safe and grounded. with everything else intact. I took a sigh of relief, trying to adjust to the very understanding of what just happened ,my phone rung, thankfully this one was not the police van siren but a normal caller tune. It was my friend, I picked up my phone, and before even I could tell him what I went through, he asked - did you got my shirt?.

Shaken & stirred once again, looking at the phone and realizing to what I just heard. even before I could actually come out of this whole mess, of trying to figure out & reply, the phone hung, & I realized, it was a dream, just followed by another. (dream in a dream) or a state of sleep paralysis.

Almost after 2 an a half years or maybe more,

Remembering back all sort of moments, that I grew up to. In my childhood, when I played here with other kids ( it was a piece of land that was more of a park then) of mixed caste,creed & colour, Even these laundry guy's children used to play with us. we enjoyed, we fought, we abused, we.pushed, slapped and cried. Though I was a shy kinds, and did not mix up that well. Still there I use to have as little time as I could. From Ice cream vendors candy man, the camera guy, the balloon sellers, all coming to this place, standing ,and watching us play, wanting to sell as much they possibly could. while all we as kids had this curiosity to buy and get something or the other by hook or crook, specially when we watched others doing so.I remember I used to look at those little deserving ones who could stare and not get ,as they watched us all get it and play with, though they joined us in our excitement and be a art of it. There were days when we used to get our clothes ironed from there, but its been a real long time though when we used to.

My dog, when died, was dig up and buried in the same very ground. May he rest in peace. All this while, I thought his soul stood there, and safeguarded us.

Today, after all those years, This house was demolished, and along with it all the memories of mental, physical and emotional time spent, came down a memory lane as a film was being rolled in our minds and hearts. We were leaving something, that we had much long before, but no more shall we be seeing this piece of land, that had our foots running down , playing catch catch, and other sort of games, when we were toddlers.

The house separated from there owners and there belongings were a sight of grief sicken agony that brought all the fond remembrance & those ones who had lost there home ,uprooted away ,left on the road came this close to there invisible tears, sucked deep into there hollow souls, and flesh that could possibly retaliate to no outcome. never had thought would have to witness, what they just had on this very fine day.

The hammer harnessed those weak cemented walls, letting those bricks fall at once, the roof that pampered the souls, who lived under it for all those years,was tampered and thrown away on the same very ground, that had seen these kids grow, get married, and bear kids.

Everything just came so small. words could barely express it.

Utensils, trunks, bed, Almira and all the belongings, were on the road, in limelight for everyone to see. The privacy of a house and there people just went through a public appearance. As if everything was there lying on the road, and now everyone was going to bid for it one by one, and the highest bidder would take it all. This Goddess Lakshmi's photograph framed/mounted, that was the last thing I saw, hanging in there on those walls.that lie deserted with no pillars now. That now had fallen apart, bulled by the government officials in white, blue and green through the court order to vacate the premise for now the possession was in a complete strangers hand.

The place demolished to the core. Everything there was just thrown out of that outlined piece of possession, The land seemed more thirsty then before, It has this bright sunshine on it, Wish it could turned gold and sufficed the greedy lots. The rest of the stuff, which could not find its place nowhere else, was kept layered and walled next to my house balcony.

For those who lived there, kept watching, it get buried to ground, and carrying there luggage'd belongings, they possibly were so very over exhausted with the ridiculed state of diaspora, that there eyes were half of the usual size, and now dried, after all day crying and suffering the misery of being thrown out of a place ,where they spent 50 years of there livelihood. They looked it all happen before there own eyes. Sadly I was a witness to this very plight for it was just across the window, off the road I live.
its been 37 years, of my watching it over every single day.

Chain tied as a fence locking down the whole area and possibly a cemented wall placed. Police vans, and government officials, court folks, and who and who not, all stood there. The people from all there homes stood there watching, consoling each other of the parking space, which had gone with the wind with this possession. Worried all, self centered they stood there, justifying there own interests and exploring possibilities and making judgmental presumptions.

it was terrible sight of plight to watch it all day long, and see those who lived almost all there lives there, standing on the street with there paraphernalia. Still adjusting on the roads in the darkness of night, with all there belongings trying to find a place to surrender it safely and cook and eat food,, hit the bed. For it wont be a easy burial and denial of all that was passe, and more worried of what was going to hit them in near future.

I pity, if only I could do anything, and as much I could still deny of the things I could , but would not. Its hard to face things that happen in a jiffy ,and more sad and vulnerable is when you know, you can do nothing about, no matter how much petite an effort of yours could possibly bring about that peaceful approach for humanity sake. melt hearts, and make friends with those souls, that could remember you forever, I wish I had things in my hand, where I never had to give a second thought to the deeds I could possibly end up doing, without being worried of the future outcomes.

NoteToSelf - I'm just tired; I just want the world to be quiet for a bit. ―Matthew Healy

- Anonymous

Monday, June 22, 2015

Virtual Pony

I have always liked witty conversations and good grammar ,new words of wisdom. legendary vocab, from urban, turban, layman, geek, without spelling mistakes. Hate it when I see it being robbed, raped and drained & dumped. I am not a perfectionist ,but I am working my way up to match the qualitative and quantitative dictionary of my English ,Hindi and Other languages with Translator, and put in all the effort I could to understand, reciprocate and communicate likewise.. I can certainly walk and talk my way out with many. Hindi is on the other hand is a beautiful mother tongue of few, and admired, and so is Sanskrit, eventually little difficult though, if it was never your main subject in school days. Interesting to know Indian languages are now being a part of International education. All other languages are as much beautiful in there own way of expression. They sound more hep, more intellectual ,presuming a person to be quite a learner specially if its not from ones genre.  The mash up of the indie English all together calling it hinglish sounds even better and quite play full and interesting. But the ones who get confused relying high and low on as little they know and would end up regenerating there own inventive lingo, kill it absolutely big time.  If at all we have all the time in the world, why would not sit down peacefully and literate ourselves and the world around with wondrous internet to our disposal, teaching and guiding thy in a miraculous way! All we have learned is to watch porn, download stuff, search, but despite all the applications and sites existing at ones disposal, one wont utilize. Sigh.

I have no issues whatsoever with People posting selfies of there petted ones, (I am sure they to there masters mean lot more then anything in the world. I mean One could make a page for there Pet, and post anything, everything, . It's just that it gets little irritating when you would rather visit a profile, or get notifications on your home screen of thy petted ones selfie then anything that has to do with themselves.! Lately this happens to be the most in thing on the internet! Well a picture of you and your petted one is fine, but We don't need a slide show presentation of your pet.!

For not behind are the self obsessed ones who are blessed with what they think is the apt thing to do a selfie session and minute by minute update it online.! Guys don't you have anything else in the world to do! Social Networking was more on the communication terms, and less on the pictorial diagrammed geometrics! I mean its okay to be fond of something or someone, may it be, your own very self, and feel proud about it, but that does not mean that you hit everyone with such irritants and make others feel pissed.

We all love our families, friends, that does not give us right to bombard selfies of them, at so much ease. God this is internet, half of the world is yet undiscovered and unknown strangely among few friends and known. Why would we want to publicize the family hierarchy. Why can't it just be me, and us. Why it has to be they and that all. Seriously it feels like a attention seeking voluntary effort. Childhood pictures are even priceless and so are those memories of ones life. Since everything has come down on the internet, I guess our privacy has run half way down to nothingness in real, but a handful of Smiley's, likes, emoticons, picture posts. At times I know we keep finding ways to update new stuff on the social networking sites, and so we shall go to extremes of doing it, no matter how emotional that little thing might look, but it would have a more merrier meaning to the ever existed old glories and the new stories of thy human heart, all jumbled up in nostalgically meaningful, yet deprived state of attention seeking human behaviorism psychology addressed to our own doingness just for the sake of it.

When will we start implying all those quotations we share. No one is in a mood to read those posted shared sentiments quoted, We all Google it these days. though cartoons are fun - agreed, but no way I want to see a comic strip running down and up from the time you were born!

As they say! "Too much of everything is bad' I hope you know that!

I am so fed up! The weird pages, advertising maliciously way to much of publicity of things no one really wants! from physiotherapy sessions, massages, old age care takers, suggested pages, politics, religion, cricket etc and other more piled up nuances that will have more then a infinity number of hits and likes and comments full of chaos and untamed linguistic expressions of ones own frustrated throw-out. I understand it to the core, for this is the way you want it to be, that makes you happy, and seriously the ones who are in the list shall make it a well pampered effort to not to forget to post an awestruck comment or hit a  like or two .

Don't we have God living in our hearts anymore, that we have to get subscribed to the daily notifications of the Spiritual Page, religiously make it a habit to check it everyday, followed after there with the vicious cycle of sharing, liking and comment posting.  Why have we become so small, so racist? We don't need to publicize our faith or love or trust by such means! There is action that speaks about the highest of piousness and neither shall such pages, make a significant change in us, if we are not even one bit close to our realness of life. Its just a Page, yeah I do agree, but then why don't we sit and struggle to find God in us, near us, around us, why we have to console ourselves and fake out the whole world,proving that we actually are one soulful lot.

I am sure you are your own pet ,and want to get pampered' (I see this is the reason you are on social networking sites, lonely, with way to much time at your disposal to get virtual then real) " I get it now", when it comes to social networking, you got to feed your own self on the internet. Why can't we spend more time learning more ways in a brighter perspective about ourselves and fall in to a self realization of one human to another, understanding, catering to the real world, and not getting disillusioned in a big foolish way, with artificial "cherry on the top" served palette. Your basic info, and couple of pics, are fine for a post, but don't tell me you don't have better things to click and post, ways to express in words, or communicate even more then you actually spend hours and days on the net hitting friend requests, and wishing happy birthdays! (I guess I for once wanted to install the automatic birthday wish application, but then I found it to be rather annoying). What fun is it to wait for a simple thank you for your wishes/messages, never seen, or seen with no revert.

Don't get me wrong I am not taking out my frustrated dilemmas, it's just that I wanted to talk about it and I am doing, for I am sure there would be many like me, who would understand and respect the "right to speak and express gesture" 

Sometimes its one of the irritant when you sit and decide, figuring it out, what have you ended doing on the internet on such social networking sites, with all the time you had at your disposal. - "I guess you just understood what I mean".

"No way I am being mean. just being expressive."

The overwhelmed pictures of thy tours and exquisite food, luxurious shopaholics and poor jealous deprived less traveled and less fed souls sit on the domain of the virtual circumference and hit likes and pour in awestruck comments. Agreed, green is not greener on the other side, I ain't going to sit there and grumble looking at those updates, thinking "what the f**k", hitting a like and posting a comment, attention seeking, to the core, happily consoling thyself to get a revert, get acknowledged of the same. After all, I get it, its all about acknowledgements and virtual ness of the whole unreal life. Very few are in the list making it a precise habitual gesture of posting ,sharing sober antics of there experienced journey called all are just those who fall from somewhere to the core of there over expected tendencies of presumptuous stagnate doing and never reach the ground, they seem to be hung up somewhere invisible.

I guess there are more and more ways , people find ways to upload anything and everything that could fill in those blank spaces between there updated walls, and never even try to convince themselves to write a two liner.

I appreciate the ones, who stand by, in a respectful way and learn and share intricacies of there life as a whole, and move on, take pains to appreciate, criticize and accept what they get in return, and settle down without any egoistic approach to self esteemed selfish horrid outbreaks!.

Is it not enough. in simple ways to be simple, and still enjoy the pompous pampered serenity of petite little things.

For the ones who feel offended any how through this status update (expression) can un friend me and I would not say a word, would understand fully on your take on it.

Make Clever Simple, & Simple Clever! - "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us" -  Knowing is not enough,We must apply!

It's way much more and above of it everywhere else, around, beyond and inside.

& Please stop posting your butt and breast selfie in that fluorescent green, and glittery pink bra.

Life is Like Sanskrit Read to a Virtual Pony!

"ABRACADABRA" - Nope! You are still a Pony.
- Anonymous

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Hebdomad - 7 Stories,Part(1)

A five minute walk (to and fro) to this Beetle Vendor for my tobacco, had 5 things, in ma thought process for each minute, until I landed back home. With a 2 more adding up to the list. Memorizing over what a weekend it had been. 7 Things that kept me busy for all these 7 days.

1.This White Balloon that came last night in its full glory, stood there, until now, though reduced in size, still strolling around my balcony walk-thru. storm thy brought in few bucketed particles of dust, and everything else that came along with it. from here there, no where. wee hours those passed by. listening and watching to some new songs and movies downloaded, spending much time on the internet, and actually doing no internet, it seemed as if Internet was doing me. The electricity out for few hours, and network connectivity lost in between, and the wee hours of those night day climaxed horizon'al phases. in between cleaning a bit here and there, sorting stuff out, calming myself with water showers, and drizzled raindrops, ice bar & cream delights, trying to adjust my audio cable that did not seem to work now, with my old tablet, that used to work pretty nice. mediating and praying ,spending time in thy corridors of my home temple, balcony cleaning and the plant life sorting. in hope for the anticipated disguised/concealed black clouds that would bring in the rain all day long,with sun peeping in, waiting all day long, and settling down with rain's - ten minute entrance and exist, making it a little cooler. music in its own peculiar way, assembling, resembling, dissembling thy whole euphoric dysphoria nostalgia of oneself, cleaning in the layered mud on the window glass to a cleaner see through. lying down,thinking on my priority list regeneration and bucket list wonders. sigh.

This Rain from no where, on a sunny,summery morning, coming to my rescue - calming up the whole situational hazards of panic attacks and nocturnal soul, tied down into thy mischief of so called challenged life, bringing in that cheerfulness on my face,glory to thy body, and peace to thy soul. in the midst of all the this and that,thy chores of life, besides few extra curricular activities, attending to thy neighbors call. simple, by & large tall, swept away, flattened or letting thy fall. trying to mend and bend the obliging stature,- i am just the same as everyone, with psyche traits of nomenclature, trying to adjust, blowing the dust, peeling the rust, keeping high the lazy bust - what is just & must. fingers crossed, begging sun not to shine too rash and harsh on thy planet earth, keep the mud wet, keep all problems at distance all let it all go well, let thy be a heaven of living hell. - here is a gist of, all said and done. now this little adulterated insanity needs to carry on with other tasks of quenching needy weeds, calm in thy needs, do thy needs, and plough in the seeds.

2. This Lizard seems to have been my new bathroom mate these days. every time I enter, I make this whistle sound, that makes him/her understand, that it does not have to be afraid, its me, and I wont do any harm to it. Still need to find out its sexual orientation, whether a male or female, need to google it.,though in the process I got to know a long list of omens related to it. It happily seems to be sitting sliding on the netted window pane, and on the tiled walls, searching for its prey(mosquitoes etc),. it is one exciting job to observe the whole process though, I make it a point, to check around before I enter.

Planned safe directions to keep the planted leafage (pots) under shade,afterall its getting hotter and there goes in too much water to the greener browner yellowish and colorful stemmed flora rooted in thy mud. they still seem to longing for more and more, despite my effort to water-logg them. Need some showers of rain on regular intervals to rehabilitate, reintegrate thy perennial verdure in the process of repatriation. The pots have been placed in a shady area, the day I was sorting them up. hugging them up, to my heart and shifting them here and there up and down, I noticed this lizard fall on from nowhere on this plant, with its eyes almost closed, as if it was sleeping and I disturbed thy sleep. later it vanished away/ with a sigh of relief. continuing my task, looking at thy plants, blooming, growing greener, with less of water intake, lesser sunlight(heat). i feel like a mom nurturing them up. the birds, butterflies and squirrels are enjoying the new placement too, I hear more noises, then before, and guess it brings a lot of positivity around. the playfulness of all the petite wondrous things around that exist, makes feel so lively. the cloudy sky, little wind, i wish it drizzled sooner & more often.

3. Water Melon after a real long time, though delivered via online shopping, was absolutely worth the effort and mess, cutting , sliding it down the throat with the seeds , n then spitting them away in a bowl ( was told, it cud b re-used ) How frutilicious it made my summery noon. By the time the late evening came, a fast sweep on thy floor, quickly watered my plants, ate dinner, drank ounces of water n milk, quenched thy hunger n thirst. shedding up thy clothes i stood there in washroom looking at the mirror, with scissor n comb, addressing thy hair cut experimentation, fed up with the whole bunch of hairdo in dis heat,decided to chop it all at once. Picking up the hair fallen everywhere to the cleaning part, a bath n back to thy love handles ,with my hands on the gadgetry ,editing couple of pictures and then this status update. Cold coffee via mixer still in the pipeline, and rest to follow. It's getting hotter by day. Even thy nights have no blowing winds.

& then, it was not a easy task, I ain't no designer, but I was on a tailor made fittings spree. Fitted & Filtered the Cooler with the home made pad, coming to my umbrage'd rescue, solving and resolving the temporary solution to the heat. (this guy, would not come and change my pads service the cooler, when ever i call him up, and they charge for nothing). in between the ongoing multifarious activities,having thy online shopped and delivered stuff to quench this heat. luckily my fridge has a whole lot of mouth watering and thirst annihilating, that could keep me busy most of the day. I am just a easy going person, petite, easy things suffice me, and I end up bargaining myself to whole lot of easy deals that come in handy and are practically decent. from enough sunlight to charge my solar panels, most of the day, to a minimalistic me, spending my time on the water cooler, from pads to filling up the water tank, and then cleaning the floor. I had a miraculous non-stop 14 hour sleep for the first time this summer, pampered by the wet drizzled damp wind throw hitting on to my face. though I have a habit to get up and get myself drenched in water, as soon as i feel all heated up. i tell you there is nothing more pleasing to get things work for you, and make yourself worked up. with few more months to go, I am still on a thought to call the service guy and get my air-conditioner serviced, for it has been 3 years or so, have got myself away form that habituated addicted delirium tremens syndrome, but yet at times, you feel so miserable when the heat does not let you sleep, and keeps you all tired and lazy, with headaches often that bring this hue n cry. keeping with the patience still, and not letting it bother thy. Besides lil devotion to the all mighty and prayers offered. Talk over whatsapp with cousin sista, remembering the old days, and how one enjoyed visiting naani ka ghar(maternal ancestral home), old fond memories of the departed and the content talking and sharing to the few ones who mattered and loved. Emotions never die, love remains the same, people change, people go. Settling down to the meal, after waiting for 3 hours of its delivery, wandering and waiting ,the hungry soul needed much instant one.

4. Washing Machine loaded with 21 clothes,collected and kept for over a week now, counted just now, can't run the machine with few ones in it & since they say Thursday you don't wash clothes, so its time to do it now before I went to sleep, just remind me i got to switch it off. just tried to google what a "fata hua doodh" was called in English (sour raw milk, that us what i came up with, still trying to find the exact term for it) and its uses. did pampered the garden with few cups of milk, and the rest kept to be applied to the skin,hair,etc one full bowl to the dog. much nocturnal wanderer that I have already become, as the day passes, its summer-some, deserted horrid petite winds( if there are any that is), or a no wind phase, hot enough to melt you down. Winding up the day with few of the chores at home and on work front. besides few telephonic calls, chats, and seeing a face or more. at times you feel good about relating to few, and to the others, you have to put an end to the useless communication that has no witty chance of involvement in for real, just virtual as much it could go, it could do justice to the willfulness of a skillful task of pampering and exchanging. - with a deep breath, at peace, heavy heart, a empty brain, and thoughtfulness Friday.

Cleaning the Fridge in summers - eating & drinking all that you see, and happily say ,I cleaned everything. From mouthwatering ice creams to sweet yogurts, chocolates, crushers ,flavored sweet lassi*curd mixed with water, adding sugar to it' & milk, meetha paan"sweet betel leaf" and its like the best air conditioner with a door that seldom quenches your heat inside out, treating you as the best host, in the best possible way. - now who wants to keep it closed. Reminds me of' when I was a kid' ,mom use to say don't stand n stare ,take what you want at once. - and I still have a habit of opening it up, and gulping down the col coffee, standing there, and looking at it while I take in the few things handy to quench thy.

5. I took this Pipe,not long though' fitting it up knotting it up with the a piece of cloth string, to the tap, as it would not hold on to it, and slip, taking it to the next and then the next room to wash thy rooms. I swept the floor with the wiper, after all the soap and all the dirt, and all the corners were wet, quenched I should rather say, have been the spirits & souls, the seen/unseen, for it was after years that I decided to do this, then the normal usual broom & cleaning. the leftover thirsty, dusty, (souls) places shall follow the same process soon. I/It felt all cleaned up, at peace. I & the floors had a good bath.

6. In tints of Shades of Grey, I see thy world through my glares on, fully clothed in grey allen solley checkered trouser,a black wrangler tee, footed black converse, thanking god, i wore no socks on, else i would have drained with the perspiring me in this sunny noon. walking down the isle, with music to my ears, hooked on to thy gadgetry called phone, some kilometers away, those seemed never to end. reaching to the stubborn objective of it to be done, pleased with the meritorious effort of making it so far on foot. I decided to walk few more steps until this rickshaw puller passed by, i called him and sat with a breath of relief, trying to re-collect my enthusiasm for this destination of work. half clouded ,i felt , feeling a bit lost, my self with a varied thoughtfulness of everything that barged my head and heart and seldom came down to a sigh of peace, still making it to thy. getting this work through, and then to the next one, forgetting to tell him where to take a turn, and then immediately guiding him so. everything seemed nothingness and meaningful at the same time, completing my third destined work, miraculously, inhaling & exhaling, saying to myself. please do take me back home now. sitting there on the rickshaw, looking and admiring the rickshaw puller's hard working, tall, toned physique figuratively and literally, telling to myself, why don't i posses the same. thinking next, how hard working this chap is like, every other, who in this heated season over exercised the paddles to earn his daily bread, should i ask him for water, if i was hungry, he sure must be. reaching down to the directive indications of home sweet home, and asking him, how much do i owe you?, to which he said, give me what you pleased, and can i ask you for a favor he said? can you please fill this water bottle of mine,on your way back when you bring thy change to give me. I said, certainly, and awestruck in the intuitive telepathy of the game of human psyche, i smiled when he made his way back. rushing in, to the refrigerator to drink anything, quenching my thirst, and shedding and loosening on to all the branded piled clothed ensembles and accessories ,taking a breath of relief. so what if i am a piece of padded flab, I still have right to look into the mirror, and be naked. and i rushed down connecting my internet to update thy.

7. After burning one fourth of the Match Box, to no avail, had to use the tiny brainy cells, in this heated weather, being more stubborn to bring about(ignite) the so called fire in the squared copper container, that had all the daily ritual left overs of a week or so,with some purification essential add-ons to it - to smoke away the evil and smoke in the pure bliss in and around house. after a while, had to shut down the doors of the room i was in for some time. not to get my self too much exhausted by smoke, until this tenant of mine called, saying, what is it , that you are burning, there is too much of this smoke, to which i replied, it was almost over. - sometimes i guess, there is no answer that could satisfy some people, and there is absolutely nothing that needs much of a detailed explanation to thy. we all have our part of excuses, for our actions, & what we listen to or speak/reply. - it's my house, my wish, i burn the whole house down into ash,with or without me in it. or i fire my floors or walls,to a complete black out. after all you are not the one coming to rescue, with water barrels ( you only talk, bring about no action, there is just a weird reaction) - absolutely no reason, to poke you nose into, what i do, and how i do it.

Spunky spirited me, on tides, low and high, neutral, with creeping determinism ,curiously anxious, timid me,trying to settle down, experimenting a connection with the immortal and the mortal. Bringing in my belief to a stronger foresighted vision, from the hindsight experience on a lookout for a tantalizing exchange. On a less deserted island, in hope for the rains and blossoms to bloom. I find the shinning light and I praise in glory of thy. Coming to an infinity of nothingness to everything, I bow down, beg for thy mercy,plead for forgiveness for myself, ancestral forefathers as a whole. Remedies that I possibly seek out for, to calm myself in totality and please thy. Dreams that come in disguise to guide, to my rescue, experiencing the other world through thy, and trying to understand the nuance of the chased chaos. I fear at times, sleep humming to the spiritual hymns. Undergoing a shallow, fitful, restless tossing, turning on the bed, last but not the least,finding my way to a restorative sleep later like a baby.

Those Wind Chimes, hung up high on the neighbors house, opposite my house, makes me feel high. They keep silent most of them time, only sing when the winds blow by - sigh! - Anonymous

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Faded in my own Glory

An illusionist inventing what was unknown to the world. It was merely an existence that lost its worth. I might have been fake and secretive at times, only to understand the world around. I might have been strange to things that were not my world, I might have been presumptuous and assumptions, to figure how it was perceived. Piled underneath my comfortable illusion of anxious curiosities ,submissive to my emotional, mental and physical aspirations, trying to rationalize momentously my urge that was to unleash. I could hide, and let it all be undercover, but then I had no reason to socialize,if I was to sit with my plight. Until I confronted my true being. World is so big, and things pass by, Things and people ,they all come in closet,until they are out, they are thoughtless. Sit tight and louder my inner perspectives to the chore, when there could be a world out there, listening to what I had to roar. Instilled within me, there was a humane /inhumane self, for no agenda I was born with, to place it all on the shelves.Stigmatic life it be, unless harder we dwell.

I had a good company when I had parrots caged hung in the corridors of my home, as if I had a toy, caged, for my very entertained life, I still remember my dad ,how excited he felt, while bringing me into a conversation with his friends and relatives, provoking me to tell them, how I let that parrot flew out with its head turned, left and right, confirming if the door of the cage was really open,taking little baby steps to actually go out of sight in the blue open sky and how humorous it was for my mom to tell the story about the cockroach, that once was upside down, and I brought her out saying look, mama, the cockroach was doing yoga when I was a child.

Many miraculous,horrid events have happened from then to now! I would have a listed gist in near future, to brag about it hence.

Growing old, was still so indifferent, it was normal though, life was much more simpler in those good old days. no need there was to worry of any troublesome trails. Grass is not greener everywhere, on either side, as it would look to be, but then you have your choicest of flora to water on the little petite weeds.

I was hampered and pampered in the daily chores of life! No one to come to my rescue, family, relatives, friends, neighbors,street dog, mice,or even neighbors cat. Wish I had it all,or a wife. Less tortured my existence be, with all the walled troubles that I mend to survive.

Peculiar all wisdom is, when it is of no avail, a bit far my intellect crumbled on a lifeless trail. Spirituality is what I hide underneath to come to my rescue, Everything else seem to have lost its charm and glory, when I see I even don't have a story.

Now old in my ending thirties, at times, I still behave like a child, I can pose, sweet, intellectual, weird, stupid, sane, insane and wild.

Jokes apart, on a serious note" I have to rush. my coffee, in the kettle might just be jumping, pouring out,with nothing much left for me to drink. Forgot completely to switch it off". - Anonymous