For You To Know

Life as I understand is a privilege and a challenge. It is a myriad of everything fascinating. It is the framework in which the pendulum of our feelings oscillates. As a sentient being I comprehend certain aspects of life that are so chaotically beautiful.

The inception of life itself is a story. Then there is the long road ahead, life being the journey. We are born into a civilized world with law and order, our species being the ruler of this world. We are all kings and queens, but do we always feel this way? Do we ever feel this way? No!

The wise one will figure out the reason behind this. We don’t feel like a monarch because we disregard our kingdom and wish to conquer what is not ours. People take their existence for granted. A lot of people wake up in the morning cursing god, who is merely a creation of man, toil through the day to win what they don’t need and go to bed tired and wrathful.

Your life is your story, people witness a great story and crave for it, oblivious to the fact that we are different and the beauty of life exists in its diversity. These are the people who taint their life with colors from someone else’s life. Sure everyone has a right to a fulfilling life, but what is a fulfilling life? Is it a spacious home, a luxury car in your garage or an expensive suit? A fulfilling life is one in which you find happiness, and true happiness does not have its source in material possession, its a state caused by being at peace with what you are.

It is stupid to wish for a life of total control, beauty lies in the unexpected. And it is but felony to be intolerant to someone else’s philosophy and attempting to strangle it with your own. Our life is who we are, what we think, because we live more in our head than the real world. Life is thinking about the view of a setting sun while you are stuck in a traffic jam in broad daylight. But why downgrade the mundane moment of a traffic jam? Isn't that life too? Yes it is, life isn't only about the bright stars, it is also the black night. After all it is only the pitch black sky against which the stars shine.

Remember your childhood? Remember basking in the sun on a winter noon and the pleasant breeze on a summer night? What did you achieve there? Yet if one asks you to close your eyes and think about the happiest days of your life those vivid images are sure to flash in your mind. And why shouldn't they, they are engraved in your memory as something beautiful. And one who does not admire the aesthetics of life has wasted his gift.

 The longing to get back in time and relive those moments are so strong, but is it our purpose in life to dwell in the past, however beautiful it is? So are the yearnings to go back and rectify our mistakes. But there is a reason why time moves only forward, so should be our movement, forward. It is noble to move forward, because to get stuck in a place is the characteristic of the dead.

Many a time life won’t be all sunshine, circumstances will beat you down to a pulp. Darkness will cloud your judgement. Now you have two choices here, be a victim, stay down and perish, or to step up to the challenge, prove your mettle and thrive. Life is not fair, the universe does not understand fair, it does not understand justice, because these are human concepts. Life is facts and how you adapt to them is how you fare.  There is a trade-off involved, to accept life as it comes your way or work to steer it in the direction you choose. Now that is a choice every person has to make for himself.  

One’s life is a combination of one’s existence and those around, and one’s environment. The equation is simple, but there is no formula to optimize it. It is intangible. It is who you are, you are your life.

Partners In Crime

You're not a person for me any more, the voice in my head is your voice. You're a subtle flame in the dark, like a guiding light. I will make you an idea, abstract, that reflection of you is what I love, and she will love me forever. I will not be sad about being away from you or wonder what you're doing, because your soul lies beside mine.

I will talk to you each day, tell you all my woes, celebrate in joy. You're going to be my motivation, my elixir. And all the battles in my head will be fought with you by my side. And all the peaks I conquer will be ours.

But it won't always be sunshine, when I am beaten down, or feel trapped, I will need you to heal me, caress and soothe my scars. I will laugh sincerely and heartily because I know you're there with me, watching me, not just when I am happy, or sad, but even in the most mundane moments you will be on the chair across the table.

For the remaining days of my journey, I have goals and plans. I might win some easily, for others I will have to put up a fight, but I will need you to witness them, easy or hard. You're the higher self I will talk to in the tranquil times. You're the reason I will look up towards the sky, spread my wings and fly.

Why? Because we are partners in crime.

Against The Wind

With clenched fist

and a smile

I bid you adieu

O sweet sacrament

I will look on

till you've crossed the horizon

into a distant land

then  bow down

and collect

pieces of our short romance.

This moment we part

I shall for ever detest,

the heart that once held you dear

is filled with pain and unrest.

There in the highland

we anchored against the wind

ready to battle the odds

standing hand in hand.

Now between us stands

iron walls of belief

wish I could break them

I'd break them with my bare hands

only if they were made

of stones and sand.

This armour I wear

is no good to me

what's gonna save me

from the hurt that starts within?

In this burning land of broken bonds

I'll shake hands with the devil

for some venal solace

and in each passing moment

drown in self-abhor.

Please do forgive me

when I ruin the canvas

on which you painted

picture of my ideal self.

And the tune you taught me,

I shall not hum it anymore

For I am afraid to sound happy

in this silent hell.

Brevity

Here we are in the misty forest

embraced in dark,

I pause here not to rest

but to reflect on the past.

Not long ago we set

on this venture of our own,

to win, to gather, to witness

bliss all along.

It does surprise me

to see we've got so far,

with naked feet we've measured

leagues of untouched land.

Give me audience fellows

your king wishes to talk.

I stand before you,

myself in flesh.

But my soul wanders yonder,

in the valleys we crossed.

I still cherish the fruits

we savored in our prime,

but let us not loathe

the bread we break together now.

Let us remember those fallen,

their ranks we have to join

and lie beside them,

cold and numb and moist.

But not at this moment,

for this is only the dusk of our lives.

Our robes are filthy,

and our feet are sore.

But we will all come clean,

if only we cleanse and cure.

Again I must thank you,

for the olive wreath.

The lofty gold crown I disowned,

had left my head scarred.

Come gather and speed,

for the time is nigh.

We must tread faster

with longer stride.

We're towards the end,

and there is the peak.

Let us ascend the mountain,

before the sun sets.

And promise me one last step

before the journey ends.

The Lord's Broth

When we all crawled the earth like petty insects identical and monotonous; the good god above wanted some excitement. He decided to bring the lukewarm broth to a boil and for his taste buds he threw in some spices. Each spice was in a bag, a bag we could open and savour the divine gifts inside.

As the first bag fell, we swarmed around it, gnawing on it, unaware of it’s purpose.  Then came more, falling all around us, sending up storms of dust as they fell. Some of us perturbed and some excited. One opened the first bag, the bag of evolution. He stood up and walked the earth and touched his brothers and sisters, which is when we all stood up and desired a bag for ourselves. Some bags fell so far and secluded we could only dream of them in our wildest fantasies.

The next brother opened the bag of civilization and built cities and bridges and walls and dams and he farmed the land. His progenies came up with languages and literature, and they sang and danced. All was good until one of use opened the bag of pain. “The lord sure has a weird taste” he scoffed. And with his discovery he settled in a dark cavern, where the pain consumed him. And up above the vultures of self-pity and despair hovered, looking down hungrily.  Only the chef could tell if he accidently spilt some rotten spice or if he just wanted a bitter broth. But we turned to the one who found the spice of religion for answer. He guided us, explaining the lord’s plan. But few didn’t trust him, for they thought he also found the spice of lies. Others followed him adamantly.

One sat below a tree and smiled, for he had found the spice of knowledge, a very rare spice, a quant of lord’s own light. And for his friend he found the spice of science, a great spice, one that would eventually colour the broth. In the swell of the moment another bag was opened, another bitter spice, greed. With it’s hideous smile and vicious motive it engulfed us all. Being the most potent spice it became the driving force for all of us.

Few wise men untouched by greed started speaking of greater things, they wore the same robe as the religious men. Few eyed them with suspicion, few enchanted by the promises they made and the rest torn in turmoil. The wise men talked of bags unopened, particularly of one intriguing spice, one that would taste of success but only more sweet.

Success as we all know is a sweet spice, but the one who bears it knows not whether to smile or cry.  We all see him conquer the peak he was climbing. And upon reaching his back scalded and his knees scarred.  He knows not whether to smile or cry, for he thinks of the trade-offs he’s made and the things he left behind down there. Of course he can’t see them from this height, but yes their images do sublime in front of his confused eyes. He only asks himself whose dream he was pursuing anyway.

The lord’s broth still in the cauldron has a very astonishing blend of spices. I say this because a few spices contradict so much.  Let’s take wealth and modesty for example, they don’t usually go together, but when they do there’s nothing nobler.  But what do I know about how the lord prefers his broth? As we grew in number and spread out, we opened more and more bags. With each bag that opened we were only more surprised. Such a myriad of spices! What is this broth going to taste like? Nobody knew.

A wanderer stood upon a fertile land and smiled, he didn’t know why. He gazed at the beautiful night sky lit by hundred thousand stars and the moon as graceful as ever in a silver veil of clouds. The pleasant breeze broke on his face and filled his lungs with the pleasant fragrance of the flowers in the garden. A stream flowed nearby and fell into a lake with musical charm. He thought he found paradise. But then the spice of science, blinded by greed told him about the riches buried farther ahead.

The wanderer started mining where science led him, digging deeper throwing the earth in the garden burying the lawn where he found paradise. Soon the pleasant breeze turned into a reeking storm and the stream poisoned. But the wanderer kept digging, falling in the pit, but he didn’t give up. Hours later he sat there in the bottom of the cavern, his back scalded and his knees scarred, holding his reward with his numb hands. He looked at the shiny stones and thought whether to smile or cry. Greed sat on his shoulders and grinned. On the surface the lawn was gone, turned into a barren land. Buried somewhere underneath the mounds of earth was  a spice people thought was a myth, one which the wise men talked of, the spice of happiness.  

Crimson

Born without a shell,
I was free then,
Unlike today...
Prisoner to my own will.

I am  a cocoon,
But never will the butterfly bloom.
Stone to you all I am,
But from inside its a tomb.
Where darkness is the only aura
And silence the only music that plays.

You hate me for what I've become,
Don’t you remember who put it on me?
And now a blade to undo it,
It’s not just the shell you hurt.


Slowly I bleed,
There is no redemption
And as you rejoice
The ground I lay turns crimson.

Waiting For The End

Trapped in flesh,
I scream from within..
Beating the walls
clawing for release.


I suffocate,
I long to evade,
To leave behind,
love and pain,
greed and shame.


For peace i pray
to my deaf Faith,
but it fails me
again and again.


I stand from the crowd
it reeks of hate
you only embrace
to push me to the edge.
And then preach compassion,
what do you know of love?


You want me clean,
blind to your stains.
An ignorant fool,
to put up with your facade.


I long for summer
in the autumn of despair.
amidst broken men
and ocean of pain,
my flame kindles
of being free.
Until then I breathe
waiting for the end.