Elusive Butterfly & a Jaded Caterpillar

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 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.

The same old(bored, tired, dulled, exhausted & worn-out, sick, wasted, ‘satiated by overindulgence’) sane prudent me in the insane paranoid world - making great mental demands,(hard to believe, comprehend or solve)difficult to achieve or remember(find or catch) trying to pull up my socks. Its cold with many cold hearts around. I still manage to stay warm somehow. 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. It had been autumn for a while now, with just thorns, I would like flowers to blossom really soon.

A Journey of unexplained-unanswered queries in curiosity, that rise within and end often leaving you with “to be or not to be” In attempt to find answers in relevance to the dispersed layers of quoted and coded - A path to vivid thoughtful of imaginations, illuminated in the darkest most that could be. 

They say, a little change, could bring about a little spark, having said that, I went for a new hair cut & danced, watching myself do that after ages. Now shaken, stirred & exhausted after the miraculous act of believing & pretending that I could, 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. For all the different reasons, that made me do what I did or wanted to and bounce back.

If only! I could be stoned or act as if I am dead, in public & I could jump & run and shout or give a flying kiss or deliberately smooch someone. If only I could talk to myself and stare at people or things, I could wrap myself around in leaves and enter a public library. If only! Who is stopping you? If you do not discover yourself or unwrap the chaos inside you, nobody will ever get to know the real you and you will stand in disappointment inside the closed doors & you even figure out what you missed for all the wrong reasons. I have seen many weird people, doing weird things & now I believe being weird was a good thing no matter of what age.

All I want is this happiness deep inside that comes to me naturally and isn't a misguided one. 

So tired of this social obligatory (artificial soberness) putting me in a stagnated state of not being myself anymore. Sickened with the fake mirage of expressionists in attempts of figuring the wrongful and the fairest of all. These pretentious quarreling ego games running in a race, where everything seems artificially intellectual yet fake. 

There was a moment in my life when I really wanted to kill myself. And there was one other moment when I was close to that. But even in my most jaded times, I had some hope. - Gerard Way

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.

This discomforted comfort, agonized rejoice, painful peace, reality disguised, ruined sorted or jeopardized. No matter how elusive or jaded my remains lie, the child within me never died. Even after I am nowhere, somewhere in the end, the story, just started to thrill & excite - Anonymous. 

Barbarian Boxers,The Rebellious Kettle

<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.

Well I could have made myself sit down comfortably, pampering my self to a luxurious self cooked meal - dine in, watching a movie or listening to music or while surfing net, but I decided, I would rather be on the go - carrying on with the chores, & once I was finished with, I could possibly do everything else. I did not wanted things to get piled up for another day. It took me an hour and two, to boil the eggs - peel them up, doing away with the egg shells, making coffee & cleaning the spills here & there & getting all sticky. The kettle needed a good wipe too, to boil potatoes later.

What could suffice a hungry heart? Maybe the answer is everything & anything that you could possibly eat & drink or quenching yourself to the desirous?  No matter in what state you were in, you will always find reasons to hog on as little or more - like a bird or a giant creature, because ‘you eat when you are happy, you eat when you are sad’. There goes this paralleled or indifferent trajectories of plateful of playfulness (play-foof-ness). The food does not know, what state you are in; happy or sad, neither does it know as to how much hungry you were? It is there, because it is there, & it needs to be eaten - that’s all it knows, or its going to get spoiled. No matter how well equipped or spoiled we are in our attempts to over joyously or in depression munch those pieces, there would always be something inside us, that would be eating us in bits & pieces. 

Now if somebody asked me ‘what keeps you busy?’ I could not in proportions do justice answering to ones query, but I might give them hints by stating “There are hailstorms, tornados & landslides you see...(that possibly you cant see, my bad) that keep me busy all along -  inside or in the exteriors around. They surround me - shuffling & sliding me from one part to a task another & they don't(just wont) let me settle down amicably with whatever it be, no matter how hard I tried. We shall always find ways to bond to the unnecessary unsound or sound.

Mediocre humane being is one average fellow who is insane at times & is no different from a dog, that shall wag its tail whenever its offered a bone. ‘There is always something tempting about things that tempt you’ & you shall fall prey to it no matter what. If only I could have saved myself from such ridicule, I would, but who wanted to? We all like being spoilt don't we? I guess no matter, how much of an effort or with no effort it all was, I enjoyed it equally despite  criticizing. Now criticizing was something that’s again a human trait & there is nothing perfect, hence it raises complaints. Wallah! ‘God help those who help themselves’ Amen!

These Red Rolling Stones Boxers, with lips, teeth and tongue out insignia pleases me as much as it blushes me to an haww, whenever it deliberately rolls down my waist every time I wear it & no matter how hard I try to hold it around my waist, pulling it up - it eventually found its way down to my feet at the end. damn! its elasticity seems to have expired. I don't wanna do away with it, but wonder how hilariously awkward it would be, if I don't hold on to it and it just falls off, at time, least expected, that too when someone is watching. No way I am going to buckle it up or wear a belt 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. I better do something about it. Its awkward to watch your pants go down, while you in attempts try to pull it up every time. I had a pretty much sober yet hard days being in them, I guess it was about time I needed to do away with them.

I wonder! if this tempted mouth-watering(an expression of taunting - humorously childish) Rolling Stones "Tongue" or "Sticky Fingers" (a tendency to steal things) meant more then what I eventually presumed. Thanks to Mick Jagger, I am just stuck & caught up between the two.

This so reminded me of "Shame! Shame! Puppy(poppy) shame! All the monkeys (donkeys) know your name!" - A charming expression(taunt) of light hearted remonstration - social transgression or faux pas, a taboo flouted, a line of decency crossed(impropriety). A mild reprimand meaning "you should be ashamed of yourself"." Referring to puppies that aren't "house broken" appearing to be ashamed or expressing guilt when they are reprimanded for making a mess. Monkeys are known for making a lot of chatter, and moving rapidly from tree to tree. In so doing, if their chatter was about someone misbehaving, that news would quickly be spread everywhere. Donkeys may have an added on connotation of the person being or acting like an ass (a fool). Often initiated or sung by ones when they would see another being not sufficiently clothed, specially when they would get a peek of there underwear or absolutely no underwear. The rhyme aims to embarrass one into covering oneself up.

This kettle when plugged in, have been making weird noises. I was boiling eggs, in the middle of the night & while I was busy doing other things, these noises started coming. I realized it was coming from the kettle itself so I went closer to it, to check if at all it made those noises or was it something else. To my surprise I could clearly hear sounds, those sounded like a little new born(juvenile chic) bird softly chirping, peeping-tweeting. What the heck? and after a while, it turned into horrid ghostly haunted whistles & voices. For seconds, I was startled to death, but then realizing it was the kettle doing the mischief, and needed a good cleaning. I noticed a pile of layer of everything stuck & settled on to its base that probably would have been causing the noises, & making it work effectively less, then it generally used to (things were taking ages to heat up real good & quick). Now its back to normal. Enough of those spooky sounds. I would have for once, thought, in my weirdest of imagination, that maybe the people were still alive & possibly being hatched and there was a possibility of one emerging from an egg.’ but that was not the scenario. phew!

Sorry Chicken - Your Eggs Are Mine!

Now all that, had made me even more hungrier, so I ended up boiling water for this tomato soup (pouch). I was glad that the kettle worked uninterrupted(I just gave it a trial). By now, I had settled down and was tucked in to my pyjamas, boxers off you go!. Damn it's cold. I was savoring.  gulping down this soup prepared that had spinach, pepper, coriander leaves with a hint of cream & butter. At last!

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

Monsters Under My Bed

“A monster's worst fear is of being found.”- Richelle E. Goodrich

As a child, I would always be so afraid of these monster's who I thought existed under my bed & would trick me to put my feet down, and as soon I would, they would catch hold of my leg and pull me down under the dark hollow gap between the bed and the floor. The dreams at night would even get worse, if at all I slept.. I would always make it a point to check under my bed in daylight, that's when they would not be there.

Maybe it was just a mere imaginary perception of my tormented self way back. I kept unwell and it was a hard time that lasted really long - a troublesome period for me and my parents, especially at nights (that's when the monsters would vigilantly hide, holding a grudge). i still remember how my parents would stay awake with me trying best to bring about peace.

As I grew, I realized there was a figurative & a metaphorical manipulative logic to the whole rationale of meaningful or a meaningless one. I no longer look under my bed now, its only when I have to clean or else when I need to find something that drops & slides under the bed. But still today at times few shadows haunt & fright me.

“We stopped looking for monsters under our bed when we realized that they were inside us.” - Charles Darwin

There is always a reason of things happening in and around. it's a way how things would give indications - guide or warn to about vulnerability or to stay safe & protected eventually.

Other then that, I remember days when we felt more often these earthquakes, that would be so powerful. Nowadays' I don't even feel them. Maybe because I've already been cracked & tremored uncontrollably in the past with much of things happening in my life. Trembled, stirred & shaken to a contrastful of forms (imaginary, surreal or real) to the core for too long, my petty-petite self being fed to these turmoil led tremors so wrong. I have outgrown my adolescent appetite for being shocked anymore.

We all have become less grounded these days, so engrossed with our shit, then we were way back and that's the reason these natural calamities & disasters don't really pester or bother us anymore. We've been foolishly quacking so much, that we hardly hear or understand the voices of our innermost self or the ones those surround. We've been surrounded with so much of negative vibes around, that we hardly get any positive vibrations. still if you think & feel you are being vibrated I bet, it was something else.

"Few questions may never be answered with 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 closer - far or near. I looked at the traffic lights, they seemed so flawlessly enlightened. I looked at the sun, the moon, the stars & clouds less frightened. I couldn’t look at people any more, i had lost my faith & trust in them & as much as I wanted to stay away - lightened. i had lost faith in them. I was still searching for answers so intensely heightened.

Thought about disappearing - to leave this place, looking for a life, some place else. I so wanted to hit that reset button, I wished - I could have pushed, opening up to a clean slate. I wish everything changed,. If only could I eliminate faulty parts, striving for self-improvement so estrange.

There was nothing more emotionally or materialistically, valuable then the bed I spend sleeping in my childhood on, that too had gone. I hope to sleep less deserted & more sound now.& these earthquakes or the monsters under my bed, I shall slay & mow. - Anonymous.

Climbing up the Loft

No it isn't the one that sells things like pajamas, workout clothes, casual wear or professional wear. Neither was it a rood loft(display gallery) above the rood screen choir or organ loft reserved for church singers and musicians.as In churches.This one is just an architectural - upper space within a building, principally for storage where "I was to go & get lost myself into".

I often would think if at all it would be a wonderful idea, to make it a fully ventilated & completely light-filled one. It could function as an additional bedroom or a hide out place for myself. But the only thing, I hadn't made it so far, was because of the climbing nuances, that would have exerted me in a fit of fright & exertion.

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

“The harder you fall, the heavier your heart; the heavier your heart, the stronger you climb; the stronger you climb, the higher your pedestal.” - Criss Jam

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. 

“Venturing is the saying of high dreaming, going down from a climb is like climbing. But when going down, we see who is beneath us. And when going up we concretized on who is above.” - Alan Maiccon

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.

“Getting to the top is optional. Getting down is mandatory.” - Ed Viesturs

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

The Emptied Nothingness

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

This egg looked at me, as I scrubbed, skimmed, un-layered it naked(peeling off the shell). After few minutes of struggling, it strangled me ‘yes yes, I am all boiled well' as if it said to me, ascertaining me for a ‘ready, steady & go’ diet to the core. Examining it while I gulped & swallowed. & while I ate, I kept imagining new innovative ideas to embellish the boiled salted egg, I was no fucking chef' & an egg was an egg, and it would remain one, not turning out into a chicken. crap! this was utter nonsense(hillarious). Followed by insanely playing merry go around with the spoon, in the cup full of tea in circles, letting thy sugar melt & settle down, I could have keep going on and on. ‘The sugar on the other hand, screamed, I am stirred pretty well by now & shaken to the core, enough, please stop it.’The spoonful of tea that had jumped & poured out, was a sign. Now that was a nuance to wipe. Sigh. I licked it. I was just being witty & skillful.

There was just about everything & anything that seemed to irritate me now. There was this chaos of dilemma for good or worst, that had my heart and mind hosting it, leaving me ponder later on. Scooping away every bit of my thoughtfulness at stake, 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 wild-flowers sprouting in the under-wood. You will grow back, over and over, no matter how badly you are devastated"

So, it did rained almost whole night a day before. restless me, in between those long hour naps, to the not so sound sleepy ones. I just had nothing to do. I wanted to sleep, but I had enough of it already, but 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 ample 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 everything that could possibly surround you whole day long & how could one or ones body adapt to ones own self or nothingness. I decided to go back to bed, and tried sleeping again.

You know what, you got a beautiful house, I would love to gift it to my mother' she said, coming closer, standing there next to the door of my bathroom’s entrance, where she found me cleaning my green bath tub. "what stuck me was, now that she would see me in shabby & odd position doing things in real, of what I had already updated status over fb sometime back" ?- ah, just a dream, (for a little fractions), I might have fell into a sound sleep for minutes.

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

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. This seasonal change with utter heat and no drizzles at all, had me so engrossed into peculiar of things lately & I was not willing to put in any efforts to take out time to water my plants either, which seem to be losing 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.) We had one thing common & that was we were thirsty. 

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. I would abruptly get up on hearing the birds chirping, or would wake up with a disturbed craving for a bath, or something to eat, or drink & then back to 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 wanted me to be disciplined. I just scolded these noise makers(squirrels), making all those weird funny, loud ones, at wee hours. Let me go and feed them up with something, I said to myself, but this sleep overtook me, and we decided to cuddle on the bed, among pillows, and follow the routine.

I had been in an over pursued attempt, 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.

My system lost few drivers, and it needed an intelligent update, a 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 every now & then in emotional, mental and  physical ways. - Anonymous 

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

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

The Morning Crow

"The cock shall not crow, till thou hast denied me thrice."

There’s this brief moment of silence, when you wake up, having this emptied blissfully nothingness of sorts - all layered up in fragments of disclosed closures.

Out & away from these strangled discomforts, as I (a stranded soul) stood there outside the corridors of my house, looking onto the road(street) int the post wee hours of an early morning, trying to deep breathe in the freshness of the morning moistened misty fog(shades of grey). These humidly moist laden layered winds started hitting my face and unnoticeable set of clouds passed by as I gazed up to this smudged sky. Closing my eyelids with a sigh of relief, deeper into a wishful thinking, leaning down into the enclosures of my very existence of happy & grief. Thy lied-within, innermost dwellings that must have definitely had many a stories to tell surrounding itself with everything else that unfolded in its own series of story-telling. 

Resisting in refusal & denials to the unspoken yet cautiously paused and mum by the already forgotten night, stepping onto the morning still afresh and new, to all that' that was passe memoirs of a night before & everything else, which was much spoken never spoken of, seen-unseen passages of time, that had lost somewhere in the glorified sunshine peaking its way out from those golden outlined clouded skyline. One more day that made me a day older, and a day wiser,that had by now already caught my attention & attentively hinting me to take this break away from the daily chores of nuances that shall hit me soon or later. There we things that needed to be addressed & I needed to get over with, by the passing time of the day.

There came this crow, struggling with a yellow coloured piece of paper, that was 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 his activity in viciousness in its attempts, trying to get this thing off with his beak. He grounded himself on to the sheet holding on to it with one of his legs, while one of his leg seem to have stuck on to the sheet of paper too. The sheet went left and right as the crow moved & he was caught in a double whammy of sorts by now - to get his leg of the sheet, & then to get of its prey off the sheet. I stood there noticing his chore 'playful-wilderness' to break a leg. Meanwhile there was a group of several other crows that came down following the sight. By now, the poor crow had somehow got one of his wings stuck to the sheet as well and no matter how hard he tried letting it off him, he just could not. The paper wont leave him, glued along to the flights he took. Somehow he managed to take this short raised flight with him still stuck to the sheet, entering into this balcony of a next door neighbor & off the road. the rest of the crows followed him,and he was surrounded by an irony of kinds.

Everything was hidden behind those parked vehicles and shrubs, plants & trees so that was the last time I had seen him and not sure if he got the paper off him (rescued) or not & whether did he managed to have a good meal(breakfast)? or was it the other crows who made there way to it. I don't know what happened to this little fellow.

"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."

Reminding me of 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 apparently reach inside the pot and he could no longer be thirsty. 

Pretty much with a positive thought provoking folklore & the scene that I had just witnessed, I by now had gathered in me the strength & forces in spirit, positive vibes instilled with wit and efforts that eventually made it to the possible outcomes no matter what. 

"thee was like the cock who thought the sun had risen to hear thy crow"

I came back in, with a bunch of flowers that I had picked from the balcony, which were fallen down on the outskirts - placing them flowing 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 finally was making sense out of senseless nuances of a morning parody, that came into being by now so far.The crow, the wind ,clouds, flowers and the sunlight & everything else that came following me this morning, as much as I followed my footsteps leaving behind few memories of footprints & as the day passes, I make sure to have mornings which were one of this kinds & which lasted pretty good.

"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.

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.

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 myself (head-down-bum-up) - almost everywhere now & then, makes me feel so prehistoric. Despite a well shampooed bubble bath, a soap here & there - now! don't ask me all where? The frustration is that scratching the itch only makes matters worse. This summer is a witch - turning me into a butt-head chimpanzee struggling to reach out places (an itch you cant quite scratch). Its been a  quadrennium or even more, I’ve adapted myself to the essential necessary. Believe me I ain't a xerophyte, I need ample amount of water too. I always wanted a swimming pool or a big tub, where in I could bathe. I had one long back, but as my size grew, the more it got difficult to fit myself in & the amount of water it took to actually fill that thing up made me gave up the very idea of having one. I always wanted to dug & puddle a small pond inside the interiors of my house all by myself or having someone inside with to cuddle. There were some who could stay underwater & there were most of them who didn't knew how to swim & were possibly afraid of getting drown, but absolutely enjoy & love splash of water.

The other day, I laid on the bed stark naked, exposed to the showers(drizzle)of the water cooler - completely letting it pamper me & have a piece of me (bathing & conditioning) I was caught in a fanciful solitude in between the two fascinated ones. While, the left side of me, enjoyed being infused & fed with deliciously mouth watering musk melon & papaya & listened to music, right side enjoyed being(amused) blown away by the moist yielding winds(droplets) that would  almost dry in fractions of time, toweling up the heat. I made sure, there wasn't any part of my flesh, left untouched. I just didn't wanted my musings to get affected by this petrifying annoyance(heat).

Chimpanzees don't talk at all, they just make noises. what if they ever started conversing - I always wonder: what would they talk about?

I’ll tell you about this few steps away neighbor, who I have known for sometime, specifically through our childhood days, (when we used to interact and spend time together). Seeing her lately taking a stroll on the street after a real long time, with her petted four-legged breed. It was nice to hear, what's up from her, but then the conversation went no further after I said nothing much, you say, going on. and there it ended, before it even started. But the act of being noticed & acknowledged & initiating a conversation was a kind gesture. I decided to catch hold of her next time, hopefully soon to exchange numbers and stay connected. I noticed her again, but by the time, (that got wasted in dressing myself up) I went out, she had already gone. 

There are often these four-legged ones, who pass by, with there two-legged breeders, who just wont communicate. At times, when without any specific agenda you felt like you needed to converse with a person irrespective of any apprehensions whatsoever - The end result might vary, it either could be a harmonious or an unfriendly one. There is always this curiosity or a craving for doing things that you want to. We all fall prey to things & people that attract & appeal us - getting our attention. Please don't mistake me for being a Don Juan, I am just a friendly orangutan.

I am too down to earth when it comes to dressing up, specially when I am at home. I believe being in a petite state & wearing just about anything would do. I might have an unkempt hairdo, that's probably because I’ve just been out of the bed or possibly didn't got time to trim those prominently visible facial hair - tucked in an untidy, old loose fitting cloth that you would often find me in. I tell you, this heat has been doing no good to me & neither does the extreme cold. As much of a social obligation wearing clothes has become, there could be justified reasons either way for wearing some or wearing none. Could we just do away with the drapes & be kids(in birthday suit) dressed in diapers or nothing at all - all day long like prehistoric apes.

Besides being capable of embarrassment & so vain - even caring for the opinion of those we don't care for, there is so much that a little head is capable of doing, often considered as the heaviest weighing part of the human body. Although the largest & heaviest brain belongs to the sperm whale. I couldn't simply sit all by myself all day long in solitude & meditate. Its not like too much of meditating would make me an asexual cenobite or something but then. I wasn't meant to only remorse over the bitterly - avoiding the sweetness of utterly buttery delicious or cheesy? It was my choice to befriend or avoid handful of tasks - difficult or easy. 

"When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart - Honor grows from qualms. It is the beginning of moral consciousness."

Let me hear, see or say no evil - if now that makes me a cogent capuchin (most intelligent new world monkey), I am willing to take the risk. I would rather breed than to greed(commit acts of debauchery),leading to the abolishment of ugsome deeds of beguiling behoove.  
  .
I shall praxis thy and abjure by - It is utterly simple. - Anonymous

Homeless-Diaspora

This briefly perceived, incalculable violent dyspepsia of the mind, as far as I can recall.

On our way to this purlieu, me and my friend, 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. 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 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 blue temporary asbestos sheet roof that had forcefully covered the holding walls. There were 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 task to get finished real quick until we were handed over with this shirt nicely ironed. We were on our way back. As I approached my friend to return him this balance, that I had got back from the laundry man but to my surprise and utter confusion, the only thing I was holding on to was this shirt on the hanger. I tried to look around, terrified by the fact that, that there was no one beside me, neither my friend, nor the laundry man or 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 the next minute. Tightly holding on to this wooden hanger, I stood there in a lost & fearful fit.

Seconds later, in a snap, I was rescued, waking up to this alertness, away from this weird illusion that I had been dreaming, I woke up, looking around, seeing this hanger kept aside on my bed, next to this pillow. I picked it up & peaked outside the window to watch the laundry mans whereabouts. Thankfully it was there intact. I took a sigh of relief, trying to adjust to what just happened. my phone rung, thankfully this one was not the police van siren but a 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, I starred looking at the phone & even before I could actually figure out anything, the phone hung & I realized, it was a dream, just followed by another. (dream in a dream) or a state of sleep paralysis.

Most people think that shadows follow, precede, or surround beings or objects. The truth is that they also surround words, ideas, desires, deeds, impulses and memories.

"Loss, estrangement, and distance-and a mood finely poised between melancholy and melodrama.”

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) Even these laundry guy's children used to play with us. we enjoyed, we fought, laughed and cried. Though I was a shy kinds, and did not mixed 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...everyone would come to this place standing and watching us play while selling things. 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 less deserving ones who would stare but not get anything, as they watched us. Although they would join us & share there excitement and be a part of the games we played together. There were days when we used to get our clothes ironed from there.

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

Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot.

Today, after all those years, This house was being 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 longed for before, but no more shall we be seeing this piece of land in the same way that had our foots running down way back once. 

The hammer harnessed those weak cemented walls, letting those bricks fall at once, the roof that pampered the souls, was tampered and thrown away on the same very ground, that had seen the family unite, siblings grow, get married, and bear children.

The separation from a place, where they once lived for all there life(almost 50 years), & now having to lose a home, uprooted & strangled on the road with there belongings. A sight of grief sicken agony that had melted all the fond remembrance with visible-invisible tears, that could no longer quench a deserted home. Being sucked deeper & making it so hollow, one could possibly retaliate to no outcome. Never had one thought one would have to witness this very day.

Everything just became so small. words could barely express it. Utensils, trunks, bed, Almira(wardrobe) and all other belongings, were on the road. 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 now lay deserted with no more pillars to hold a roof which had fallen apart. It was a court’s order to vacate the premise & now in possession  of a complete stranger. The place demolished to the core with everything thrown away. The deserted land seemed more thirsty then before, It had attentively brighten up with sunlight. ‘if at all it could turn into gold and sufficed the greedy lots or suffice the less deserved’. The rest of the stuff, which could not find its place nowhere else, was kept layered and walled next to my house & it seemed like, as if the wall had sympathized with there burden & lend them a shoulder to lean on to.

There eyes kept watching it happen (being buried to the ground), while they sorted there belongings, completely exhausted in a ridiculed state of diaspora so homeless. There eyes were half of the usual size and now dried, after all day venting, loathing & crying and suffering the misery of being thrown out, there was something inside weeping. 

“We can take a lot more, we the stoic nation with its legendary sang-froid."

A chain tied, fencing-locking down the whole area and a lower cemented boundary wall erected, while police vans, court officials & people from the neighborhood stood there watching. Few consoling the worried homeless & others interested about there petite self-centred presumptuous justifications, exploring possibilities about the parking space that had gone away. 

The moon shone resplendently above us - its splendid aureola seemed suffused with stolen aurorean light. It was terrible sight of plight to watch it all day long, and seeing the homeless ones  on the street adjusting there paraphernalia in the darkness of night. Trying to find a place to secure themselves & there belongings & to cook a meal & feed themselves with, hit the bed & rest in peace. It wont be a easy burial & denial of all that was passe or things in stored in future.

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

Sadly I was a witness to this very plight for it was just across the window, off the road & its been 37 years, of my watching it over, every single day. The day has been a real lazy one and I feel lymphatic accordingly. - Anonymous

 

Virtual Pony

“You seem to be feeding your own self on the internet. - For you its a "cherry on the top.” Are you feeding upon the internet or is the internet feeding upon you?” 

Your basic info, and couple of pictures just about seem fine, for a post, but don't tell me you don't have better things to click and post or you are ignorant enough to figure out ways to be more expressive, when clicking pictures or communicate in words. 

No one is interested or bothered in reality about how  artificially glorified, emotionally condensed or mentally perturbed your status or status updates be. 

It’s okay to be in love with yourself or being fond of yourself, something or someone, or completely being self obsessed, but that doesn't mean you’ll keep bombarding such irritants every time. These self obsessed pricks who are so blown away by their selfie expedition & you’d see there minute by minute updates & the ones posting pictures of there petted ones. It's just that, it gets little irritating when you would rather visit a profile & all you would see is ‘raining cats & dogs.’ The worse part was about getting notifications about everything else other then you. Well a picture of you and your petted one is fine, but we don't need a slide show presentation of your pet being bathed or mated. You posting pictures about your lavish party's, tours, exquisite food, luxurious shopping must be pitying over those poor, jealous, deprived, less traveled or less fed souls, who sit on the domain of the virtual circumference and hit likes and pour in awestruck comments. ‘Grass is not greener on the other side’ agreed. I ain't going to sit there and grumble & envy you anymore, looking at those updates, hitting a like and posting a saucy comment, getting you on to your attention seeking roller coaster ride in viciousness, while consoling myself... damn!

Who the hell is interested to know about you family hierarchy. Seriously it feels like a attention seeking voluntary effort. Your childhood pictures are priceless and so are those memories. But what anyone has to do with your memories or your parental forecasts - alive or dead (may the rest in peace) but it was completely unnecessary to post a piece in fond remembrance. 
We all love our families, having said that, I assume there would be most of us, who would not even have their family members acquainted on social networking. PDA (Public Displays of Affection) over the internet was so passe.  

I would be least interested to know who you follow or who you are being followed by or to see a comic strip running down and up your time-line from the time you were born. The ones in your friend list would make it a well pampered effort, not to miss-out or forget to post an awestruck comment or hit a like or two, no matter how absolutely irrelevant or rubbish it would be.

I understand it to the core, for this is the way you want it to be - probably having nothing to do in life, this seems to be an easy thing & only way out effortlessly, keeping yourself engaged.

I am least interested in your forwarded & shared posts about religion or spirituality - I would rather be interested to know if you were self-awakened or well-enlightened enough? Don't we have God living in our hearts anymore? that we have to virtually go about looking for blessings & to get subscribed to the daily updates & notifications about these spiritual pages. I would gift you a religious calendar if you wanted one or best you could do is to have a wallpaper on your phone or desktop. Since when & why have we become so small, so racist? We don't need to publicize our faith by such means. Your fondness over internet has nothing to do with how pious or spiritually religious you are - it is going to make no significant change either. Its just a page. Why don't we sit and struggle to find God in or around us, why we have to console ourselves by virtual means, trying to prove something.

Spending vulnerable sluggish hours over the internet hitting friend requests or wishing happy birthdays is all that you do? I for once, wanted to install this automatic birthday wish application if at all it existed, but then I found it to be rather annoying. While it is good to have an internet reminding you of birthdays, what good it is to wait for a simple thank you revert for your wishes conveyed?, That would or would not. It’s all about acknowledgment you see - I get it now.

There are a few who act apt & precise about there habitual gestures of posting, sharing sober antics - coming out of there experienced journey called life whereas the rest of them are just those who literally seem to be nowhere close to real or even a virtual visibility. I appreciate the ones, who stand by - in a respectful way and learn and share intricacies of there life - taking pains to appreciate, acknowledge, revert, criticize, accept or deny - settling down amicably without any speech of hatred, without there self esteem being affected & there would be others who would get offended. 

"Too much of everything is bad, I hope you know that. This virtual-stickiness sickens." 

Don't get me wrong I am not taking out my frustrated dilemmas on to anyone at all, I am just using my "right to speak and express gesture" & by no ways I am being mean, "its just that people need to be shown mirror," I am through with this irritant (virtual nuisance on the internet). I & need to utilize whatsoever time I have at my disposal for better things.

For God-sake please stop it.

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

“Life is Like Sanskrit Read to a Virtual Pony”

I often wondered how not very difficult would it be for people to find things to communicate about & how easy it seems when they upload, share or forward a picture or two. Effortless In there approach to even try filling in those blank spaces with more lines then just a two word phrase, it gets even more difficult convincing them to get convinced of getting use to the convenience of reasonable social networking.

“When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart - Honor grows from qualms. It is the beginning of moral consciousness."

Social Networking used to be more on the communication terms and less on the pictorial front, which now has turned more of a visual delight, leaving absolutely little or no scope for conversations.

I have always liked witty conversations with no or reasonable amount of unavoidable pitfalls (spelling mistakes or bad grammar) which make sense. 

I am open to all the possibilities of words (vocabulary of wisdom) absolutely coming from just about anyone or everyone. May it be urban-turban, layman, geek or a freak, but I hate it when I see it being robbed, molested & raped, drained & dumped. I am not a perfectionist myself either, I am in the process of learning & choosing qualitative over quantitative forms. I am thoroughly addicted to what is being dictated well. I make sure to keep beside me these dictionaries of languages which seldom come in handy to a linguistic rescue of translations, so that, I wont have to isolate myself to no or minimal of understandings at all & I would try to put in all the effort to reciprocate likewise. 

I can certainly walk and talk my way out with few languages. Every language is as much beautiful as any other in its own way, you just need to learn to express or admire. While it's a human tendency to mash-up(mix & match) things all together, a certain amount of playfulness could be acceptable at times & could sound interesting, but being completely blindfolded & relying on to self invented lingo being regenerated could probably kill it & get confusing.

Someone the other day, virtually asked me, Could you teach me English? To which I replied...Why don't you befriend internet as your wisest of teacher & a guide? With all the time at your disposal, you could sit down & literate yourself in abundance, you didn't needed anyone else to teach you anything in a miraculous way. That is, If at all you could find more relevant things to do over the internet (utilizing in a variety of applications, software's and sites that come in handy) other then the irrelevant ones (watching porn, downloading stuff, social networking venting over, spending time on dating sites to hook up for sex) could guide you in many ways then you probably thought & you don't even need to bargain a great deal. Sigh.

Why don't you teach the virtual pony to learn something new? You are your own pet & you want to get pampered & that is the reason you probably are socializing a network. You are way too lonely & free - with way to much virtual time at your disposal then real - being clueless.

When even the half of the world is yet undiscovered in real, we adapt ourselves to this unknown virtual world of sorts surrounding strangely to a few friendly or unfriendly faceless ones, with a little or absolutely no clue at all. Everyone to everything has come down on to the internet, I guess our privacy has run half way down to nothingness in real. A handful of smiley's, likes, emoticons & comments is all, that seems to convince everyone else that they are mistakenly being admired or acknowledged. We keep finding ways to be socially or virtually accepted and we go into extremes. The human perception & psychology seems to be all so jumbled up. Weird at times, the virtual nostalgic realms of peculiar enigmas in its somewhat existence seems to bother everyone then the real life stigmas. thus depriving & refraining human behaviorism to be understood in totality.

I am so fed up! with these pages being advertised maliciously way to much. No one really is going to get benefitted from more & more of these piled up nuances that will have infinity number of hits, likes & comments following a never ending linguistic blabbering. 

Though these animated gif cartoons & memes are fun - agreed, but no way I would want to see it every time popping up, with no real conversations happening. 

It was about time, we started implying to all those quotations we shared. No one is in a mood to read those posted sentiments quoted. 

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

Make clever simple, & simple clever! - Knowing is not enough, We must comply! - Anonymous