the trick,

said my wise friend to me, lies in dying before you die, and realizing that there is no death.

And his eyes twinkled.

Twilight

कभी किसी को मुकम्मल जहाँ नहीं मिलता
कहीँ ज़मीन तो कहीँ आसमान नहीं मिलता
तेरे जहाँ में ऐसा नहीं कि प्यार ना हो
जहाँ उम्मीद हो उसकी वहाँ नहीं मिलता

कभी किसी को मुकम्मल जहाँ नहीं मिलता
कहीँ ज़मीन तो कहीँ आसमान नहीं मिलता

जिसे भी देखिए वोह अपने आप में गुम है
जुबां मिली है मगर हम-जुबां नहीं मिलता
बुझा सका है भला कौन वक़्त के शोले
यह ऐसी आग है जिस में धुआं नहीं मिलता
कभी किसी को मुकम्मल जहाँ नहीं मिलता

These are the words of a famous poet. I'm not sure of the name.

First Principles

home is where i can go back to the first principles

no punctuation stops nor grammar binds
and the sun feels as good as the rain

The Bane

"Almost, but not quite."

Youth

When one is young
One often forgets that youth is a great virtue.

Perhaps the greatest of them all.

BzzzK

I laugh in the face of profundity.

On decisions

In the locality of the here and now, all decisions can only be baseless. We can hardly comprehend the vast array of the multiple factors that affect us and our lives. Yet we fret over decisions so much, spend so much time and energy on them. And then we claim to have made informed decisions. The truth, my friend, is that us folks of the third rock are masters at self delusion.

But it is good that we do not have access to all the factors that we should pay heed to. The overwhelming vastness of possible choices and outcomes, coupled with the fact that no one knows what they really want is terrifying.

So we trudge along, pretending to have made the right decision looking forward ten years into the future, and believing so even ten years hence thus having the magnanimous capacity of accepting what we are dealt out.

The anti-end

In a blaze of inadequacy towers burn. What once was is yet to change and the interim spreads its arms, enshrouding the past and the future with its ominous tentativeness.

We, who do not worship the moment, look at the interim with the scorn of familiarity. And it smiles back at us, that wily usurer. It knows that the result was decided before the game began. To live, another day, great sacrifices are made. Make it worthwhile.

No

I do not love you.
I only love the idea of you.

Form

The dancer must cease to exist for the dance to come to life.

A kiss to build a dream on

In a search for life I stumble upon some rocks lying by the pathway. Forced to stop to gather myself I notice a world. Green grass and yellow flowers. Red sun and blue eyes. Warmth of a cool breeze. The floating whiff of fresh cookies and wet earth. Rain drops and tinkling laughter.
For a moment I lose myself.

Amnesia

You were once Gods.
But since, you have forgotten who you were.
And now you are
Men.

Blue Ink

Words. They do not come.
I beg and I plead.
I writhe and I write.
But in the end I erase.

Far, far away...

A Case of Mistaken Identity

There was a little green creature right in the centre of the universe who didn’t much like it there. He wanted to move away from his place deep in space to a location nearer the borders where he thought were the shores of this universe and the seas of ether. He wanted to build a small house there so he could go and surf in the ether whenever he wanted to. So he set out in search for the celestial beach and the ethereal sea.

He put his belongings in a little knapsack on his back and some loose change in his pocket to tip the cab drivers. He walked out of his front gate, and looked down the road which he assumed to lead away from the centre of the universe. With a grin, he gave a hop, skip, and a jump and ambled along merrily.

A Trickle

Perhaps, in another life.

Shall we drink to that?

Unattained meanings,
And hidden corners;
Truth that is true
and ringing.

A Prayer and a Question

How can I, in this short life and a world of countless untold miracles, ever be satisfied until I have partaken of the nectar from every flower. Can I do so and yet hope to find living life?

I pray, most sincerely, not for peace but for intensity.

Go: celebrate.

Portrait of a new step

Sword in sheath, armored and horseback, he is ready. Today is going to be an interesting day, to say the least. He is only just aware of the swarm of the men behind him.

It is time. The Child Of The Wind has taken up the sword and the land waits to be reclaimed. The skies look down to the earth promising rain; the clouds are in a frenzy. In every breath he can sense the earth and air and sky. He and his beast are one and as one stand, poised to fly, on a weave of air.

Three more minutes. Three more minutes to first light. Three more minutes to a new dawn. He closes his eyes and he can feel the land and the rocks and the sparse trees. He can feel the army behind, their intensity radiating out. He can feel them below, and he does not cringe this time at the thought of them. His eyes remain closed. He knows the first rays are appearing from the other hand. He unsheathes his sword; the beast lifts a leg expectantly and his men await with bated breath for the Child Of The Wind to complete his terpsichore. The sword rises, catching these first rays and scattering them across the realm as far as the eye can see, laying his claim to the soil of his gods.

Pause

In a world of bleary eyed splendour, and a warped sense of being, we walk down the aisles pretending not to look. The rain falls down around us and we fight it with umbrellas and galoshes. The by-lanes of the mind rot in unuse and the spaces we search for are forever lost. The sun sets in brilliant flames of red and gold and a wordless sigh escapes.

Midnight

As each of us have life within ourselves, so we all have non-life too, something that is constantly denigrating our present selves. And this creates a shift from one state of mind to another, and we live only in states of the mind and an illusion of some constancy among these which gives the life a more over-bearing role than the non-life.

During the Shift, we are unsure, and this unsurety makes us grab on to a part of the previous, which we will soon begin to deem as constant, but only until we find some other form of constancy.

Good Morning

Interrogations Of A Life Unreached.

Some questions, some answers. More thoughts, and a few conjectures.
Some might be cross posted on another blog of mine.

See you around.