Posts Tagged With: thoughts

Etching On.

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Etching Patterns of thoughts on the papyrus of our mundane lives..

Designs we croon into the ear of our twin incarnation..

Curved stretches curbing across the mounts..the will, the wish..

Binding with the harsh breath..mellow at times.. juggling at times..

Strolling across to plot a breathless life..

 

Stumble over potholes dug by our own soles, Hasn’t thee rolled over, traced back, and strutted along then?

Yet the path of etched drawls back and forth scuttering on..

Inking on.. smug.. or giggly.. dreadful or greedy.. smiling through the blots of ink..

In hope in faith.. for trusting to be bound by fate.. we etch on..

 

A kind samaritan spinning the fate.. whispering incantations to string fate to wish..

A mildly fulfilled soul springs along.. sketching butterflies..

And yet then. droplets of pain blotch the ink just along the curve..

 

Words lack depth one might say.. as the heart fails to siphon strings of syllables

Wishing to only tell stories of memorable cons, fortitudes.. innocence and love..

How often has thy samaritan hidden in the cave of doubt?

How often does thee ponder of ways to escape the designs?

Trapped in thy own breath, memories and desires..?

 

Or did the benign fisherman row thee  across?

I think he did.. didn’t he?

Anew bridge..anew sketch..

Anew binding of faith and fate..as thee etches on..

 

P.S- Random thoughts, random sketch as I try to drown myself in something mundane.

 

 

 

Categories: amibiguity, answers, art, blogging, courage, darkness, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, freedom, fun, HOPE, life, living, loss, love, love oneself, memories, poetry, poetry on life, poetry on love, soul, strength, struggle, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

A penny for my own thoughts.

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Categories: life | Tags: , , | 4 Comments

Do you search for those words as I do..

Why do you write so? What inspires you to do so?  

Which portions of your life befriend you to do so?

What makes you pick that pen up and scrawl those words?

Matters that pour nuisances of you heart and more so of your mind on the parchment.. why do you write?

I write out of sheer boredom engulfing my shelf life here.. Or do I?

The agony of a mind fanning its own thoughts..

I write to forge a bond with myself..

I write to loosen the knot in my bare hands..

The knot between bare hands? Yes.. the fidgety fingers fumbling..

Pondering what has become of the self I knew yesterday?

I write wondering shall I ever be that prolific dispeller of words… who writes with ignatious ..an unabashed flair…

From whose beacon of riveting knowledge shall I glean that uninhibited figurative tongue?

Fuse words of boisterous beauty.. Purging impudent purity … honest in in its picturesque candor..

A language of man… nature .. laden with no pompous substance but only the essence of poetry..

Poetry that peels the layers, draws the vulnerability in the eyes of man..

Shall I ever touch the hearts and minds lighter in joy.. foster the soft naive rush of unhinged emotions..

Fill their smiles with a knowing that these clumsy words indeed spell the unknown clusters in there hearts..

Shall I ever revive the light in the eyes of those men.. Lasses and humble beings in pain..

They who know not how to touch their own wounds.. barren for words..

Why does thee perspire to rise with the sun and ride to the time..

What in thy soul has life of its own? And what shines the light in the darkest corners..

Kneads into shape your empire of dust time and again.. kindles the fire wood in cottage..

Like the shepherd thee rises with dawn.. Hoping to find what thee looks for.. 

Stare at the mountains.. clamber the hills.. search for the  lion with the humbling mane.. horrific yet dangerously prideful and beautiful..

Search for the maiden who calls thy name.. search for yourself in the galore of beings one sees..

Oh..Why do you write so? Why do you perspire so?

What it is that leave’s your touch as the sun breaks sleep..

What is it that saunters in your eyes in the day.. haunts your heart by dusk..

Do you search for the man.. as I do.. 

Weave words like needles were carving scriptures from your mind onto this plain parchment for epiphany..for sake of epiphany

Do you search for those words as I do.. words that bind you to you..

 

Categories: answers, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, HOPE, humanity, life, poetry, poetry on life, questions, strength, struggle, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , | 5 Comments

The Imitation Game, Imitating an Illusion.

So Alan Turing builds a machine to beat another machine, Christoph to nail that one setting amongst the millions manufactured by enigma before it could initiate the day’s destruction spree. We, we are at war with  time, he say’s that too. But the enigma in our lives ain’t a machine constricted by human definitions of possibilities, it ain’t a human make. Existence created time and the creation of existence is non-defined as its creator would have to be created too. Creation is again one of those very comfortable terms we humans prefer to define in hopes of finding a cause for our existence. As without a cause, the idea of a purposeless life except the purpose of just existing would diminish life to nothing. It would drive us to be insane in a way we now understand or know nothing of. But not that we are any more sane now, as we make a move on time, we restrict our moves, dividing them into sane and insane to make sense of our insanity.  But maybe we could understand, we have those dark moments all of us do, but just breathing, living to only exist in that perpetual darkness, how would we live like that?Ask the raven, should we? It would only say, nevermore…

Now, time, if it were a machine, infinite possibilities, how would we imitate it? How do you imitate an illusion? By being an illusion yourself, by responding with our own illusions, our own perspectives. Is that the answer? But that seems like such a definite, finite answer.

Time assures us a demonstration for every moment that passes, (See, we had to divide time into moments, because we need the cause for the next moment) and we are only living the passing moment, always catching up. Can we ever win the war?

We have clasped our moments into a life,thus we fight a war that runs for a finite fraction, the parabola that began in our minds at the moment of our creation. The curve of our parabola restricting our vision sideways, the pole the point of creation, and everything before the pole beyond the mind’s vision, not imagination of course. Then again, imagination is constrained. As we navigate through the parabola, there is the infinite existence in front of us. But just as we look up and we see the sky, the sky despite bring infinite, is finite to us, on the same lines from the beginning of the parabola we see the end but there is no end. We ache for an end, for a purpose, for an understanding of what is past. As I write this rambling version of my thoughts, suddenly strikes another possibility, maybe we are moving from infinity to the pole we know exists, we are narrowing down. But still the fact remains the parabola is just a sketch, a boundary, an embellishment  on that infinite dimension of time.

Quoting  Alan’s character in the movie says, “Do you know why people like violence? It is because it feels good. Humans find violence deeply satisfying. But remove the satisfaction, and the act becomes… hollow”

The violence of time rather our violence against time, against what you call your god’s creation, can be defeated, made hollow only if we stopped feeling, but who are we satisfying by feeling anything? only ourselves. Would we stop being destructive if we stop feeling? I am not sure..maybe. The wars we fight, to feel the sense of power, the high of a triumph , the sinking sensation after a defeat , all driven by our penchant of dividing our world into sane and insane, right and wrong. Feeling it all, the burning of the raw lashes of love, our disgust and hatred for those we call lowly and thus the feel of being better than them, all of those sensations makes us feel alive. And we need to feel alive, to feel the thrill of living, moving towards a purpose, moving towards an end, towards death and yet not reaching it. Hence,sans the thrill, the solace, on the face of a dead man.

And being human is a boundary condition we accept and we do what needs to be done, and what that is which needs to be done, we have the privilege of defining for ourselves. And as I try to be what I believe, as I try to rise above my soft comfort zone where I feel comfortably numb, I realize I am at war with myself, and hence to live I build a version of myself willing it to defeat the me of the yester moment.

P.S- Thoughts inspired from The Imitation game and a really smart, brilliant and inspiring friend of mine.

And I must mention the movie was thought provoking on so many levels, it constructed many of those
thoughts which so often invade my mind and yours too,and that too in an exceedingly beautiful intricate manner. Blown away by Alan Turing and Benedict Cumberbatch.

Categories: life | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Stilled Time?

STILLED TIME?

Still, all that exits is still, all the exits is stillness,

You sit on the flat earth, neither do your eyes roll, nor does your chest heave to breathe,

You sit and watch just in one dimension,

The clouds don’t pass, nor do you see the wings flutter past the blackness,

All that you see is neither dark nor light, it’s nothing,

The mighty sun is just there, or not there, as it ain’t not giving light anymore, keeping it all to itself,

Light does not traverse either, so there is no light, as there is just stillness,

A still world, as all we see is mono-dimensional,

In an existence as such, what could time mean?

Where nothing was relative to another,

Time, it would cease to exist, wouldn’t it? As whoever heard of stilled time?

Time exits, rising from our need to expand in dimensions, to move,to keep moving,

Time an enigma yet as simple as “a measured step, how fast can you take it”?

Fast a word by time, aah, the frustration when one tries to untangle time in singularity,

Stillness ain’t of this world indeed,

But what if, just what if you stood blindfolded,

The memory of each passing second abolished at the birth of the next, would you still know time?

Stilled time existing in an infinitesimally timed unit,

What if you were just a thought? Could you bear to digest that?

And what you thought was another universe plying parallel to yours in another time,

Each thought, each wishful memory recreating the past, existing in your present,

Yes now, the seconds already lived relived in another timed zone writing another story of your life,

Each wish for your future sculpting a universe that lives and breathes with you in it, as you live in your thoughts now,

An old memory, still running and rerunning in another timed zone,

Then our universe, what would it be? can you see it?

It seems as though a coalesce of thoughts, clusters forming universes and galaxies,

And time? Well, is it still?

As all that passes, passes in its most non-defined, minutest span of time,

Time abolishing time,self combustion,

And pervading infinite stillness, maybe just maybe in real time stilled time does exist?

P.S-  Another unit of time, another year has gone by, Happy new year!:)

Well I have always found time to be an enigma, making everything seem like an illusion, and well I did watch interstellar which fuelled my urge to understand the whole concept, well I failed, but did jot down a few thoughts:)

Categories: amibiguity, life, poetry, time | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Short Angry Rant( human rights)

At the risk of sounding radical..well h*** yeah, I will be radical.To anybody who hints at human rights for terrorists, please surrender yourself to them, the terrorists,since you are so overflowing with humanity, you could save a few lives, as those “I don’t know have words for them” will have other lives at their disposal.

And yeah do define human for us, your unintelligent counterparts, before you bring out your memorandum of rights. I apologise, I belong to country of Gandhi but I am hopelessly incapable of digesting and inculcating his ideologies.I am just suddenly reminded of Jalianwala Bagh incident. The difference between then and now is the cause for the brutality.

India has borne the brunt of terror since years and I have been hearing and reading about for as long as I can remember.  I am not sure if there is any cure for evil, evil that exists for the sake of being evil, except to say, crush it. How? I don’t know. And what does that make us? Is our cause for brutality justified? yes it is, without second thoughts, yes, it is.

A poem I had written quite a while ago, I find it quite relevant to what I feel again today.

Mutation Beyond Recognition

The heart screams out,

It screams and dies a death every time,

Every time a daughter is raped by her dad,

A son is beaten and his dignity stolen and shred to pieces,

Sometimes seeing in print, sometimes seeing the devastation after in being,

From one animal to another, have we gone beyond being an animal?

Sunk lower than the lowest ones,

Have our thoughts become mutated?

Mutated beyond recognition and resurrection?

Section so and so, section so and so, out comes the law book,

A book scripted to bench the crime, not do away with it,

A law book scripted to give benefits of doubt,

Find evidence, find evidence, I must be followed, It says,

For I am the sole way out you see, I am irreplaceable,

You have endowed me with powers and now I overpower you,

Laws of nature, Is its original copy unedited, missing a section?

Or has it been muddled up and left with gaping loop holes,

A sight being replayed since the time of our epics,

When the court of books and all the noble souls stood watching,

Noble dastardly souls, with immense courage to stand by their laws,

But not an ounce of it to stand for humanity, overpowered they were you see,

As the laws rip apart a world it had tried to make human,

Today we meekly stand and see the grave yard expanding,

Graveyard of pained souls, Graveyard of revengeful spirits,

All awaiting their turn to return, sharpening their canines to tear and masticate the demons,

But alas, No urban law, no International court of justice to push back and curb this expansion and invasion!

Have we no way to heal the wounds? No way to pulverize the mansion of evil?

No way to grind it to minuscule particles?

I envision a momentous win when these particles would have no nucleus,

No polarity to reform,

No limbs to capture what belonged to our humankind.

Categories: human rights, life, poetry, terrorism | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Ramble on Pathetic Journalism

I am not sure, how this post is going to turn out to be or where it is going to go but it is going to be quite unpoetic I am guessing.

I have been watching lots of movies since the past few weeks, so my mind today was revolving around the lives of actors, how we see them, what do we see them as, how their lives are robbed of privacy and sanity quite often. At the risk of sounding naive, I wondered who was responsible for this and also why the messing up of their lives was such a juicy and happiness inspiring talk for most of us. Yeah, there is the matter about publicity stunts but “dude, get a life”

Then slowly the monkey in my brain jumped to the very often published photos of the actresses when they had an oops dressing moment ( Oops because we have made it oops), known or unknown to them. As though this never happens to any of the people in the real world, Duh. Their cleavage, or a show of her limbs or anything else that is suppose to be bandaged.

Most of us are of the mindset that these women merely exist to entertain us, mostly the ones who are bold and sensual, words which would translate to scantily dressed to much of the crowd. The men, aah the men, men hath no fear, after all the worst could be an unzipped fly in the crowd aside from a morphed/real video tapes of course. And yeah the rest, we have seen it all, its just a part of the scenery, beautiful scenery to be marveled at, those toned muscles and abs, not a truer sign of truer hunk. A hunk that’s all, not a s*** as we call them.

And yeah s***s, You want them, you need them, but you also want to derogate them just to feed your ego, to prove that you are better and almost as though you are doing a sex worker a favor.(yeah right)

To those journalists who earn their living through their gossip and erection inspiring news snippets:-

Do women assets really impact GDP, political affiliations, nuclear wars, poverty? They do pay your living expenses and you pay taxes I am guessing and do the nation a big favor,but really that’s all the journalism you got? Yeah cleavages do generate good amount of money via fashion industry and the film industry and even if I was the worst guesser ever, I would say they and their money pay more taxes than you or your earnings do. The industry has a lot of good perspective to offer too, not all good but quite good.

I get it, you sell what the crowd wants, but don’t you also generate market for the news. The media has great power, just as words do and art does, hence when they sell, they impact. Why feed on a derogatory mindset, when you can change it fellas?

That is because the way people tend to look at actresses, the same carries over to the way they treat or look at women on a day today basis. Of course there are many more factors impacting that outlook apart from the fact their brains are just junk from s*** in the outer space.

The mentioned concern is certainly not a cause of derogatory remarks on women on a day to day basis, but it is what fuels the mindset and the cause. Its a choice between being a part of the change wave that by changing your style and focus or staying on the other side sticking to bad irresponsible journalism, and that’s a choice you guys have to make.

Categories: Economic Disparity, emotions, expressions, feminism, Hypocricy, India, journalism, life, mindset, Moralizing, politics,justice,society,corruption,women, society, teaching | Tags: , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Game of assumed rules and not so few words.

We are playing a game, a game for which most of us do not know the rules, but we have assumed that they do exist. Each day we survive on a few words that we have built our life on, dignity, right and wrong, next what, goal, best, perfection, achievement, need, where next so on and on. Not so few are they, but we invented them and we have been making our own perceptions of these words, analyzing their weight and their rules and demands at every stage every second of our lives. Every moment we make choice, we twist and turn in our heads the value and meaning of these words in our context. We wonder and ask ourselves, whether we are meeting the standard? We mould them to suit our need and we hold on to them to justify and choose our choices and then choose among those choices. Sometimes, it’s a torture, at times when our instinct matches what we want,” life’s fair to us” we say.

From the beginning till the end we all depend on something, on a person, on a value, on an idea, on a concept, on to a belief, neither of us are free, neither of us are independent. The terms are only relative.

When human became human, what did dignity mean to that human, what did humanity mean to him? What were his ethics?  What was nudity to him? We were born nude right? Then how did the concept of nude even taken birth??

It was a life based on basic survival instinct, one animal against another, of raw power, when power did not exist but its seeds were being planted. But you see power always existed, A dinosaur ruled the world with sheer power of its size, might sound funny, but ain’t it true?

Then too every man knew the beast in him, acknowledged it and used it. Today we hide it. We camouflage it, some of us have made the camouflage our jacket that comes off at our will and some of us have made it our skin, but we all tend towards shedding some skin in our lifetimes. But as we suppress it, it plays its own game inside. The devil attacks those words each day, the devil fights against our assumed rules.  But the devil is evolving it is changing it does strategize and its priorities have changed. Sometimes the devil is not a devil in the real sense but just our relatively freer dual personality speaking up.

These manipulations, strategies, words, how much to they give us? How much to they take away and refrain from us? What do they blind us towards?

I have noticed and felt the brunt of it, have been a victim of myself, have seen my own games playing out and ruining so much, so many relationships. There are times when the each word seems like the other, the lines between what stand in the context what we assume just get blurred. There seem to be two axes, at time multiple ones too and we keep searching for the point or the points in the plane that lie on the line equation. Self-esteem and ego, want and need I find are a few pairs of those axes.

The plasma that we have created, we all collide in it, we try to make new compositions of oxygen to live on it. It metamorphosizes but its core, its basic unit cell doesn’t really change.

How did we come to this point, are we spiraling upwards or downwards? Or are we just static, and relativity is the illusion?

There are thousands of questions brewing inside my head, and it all seems to be coming out in the form of this rambling account of my thoughts.

Categories: amibiguity, emotions, expressions, life, society, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

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