Dejavu

My Jim Morrison Hair…

2011-11-06T02:29:00.000-08:00

The journey of my hair…

From extremely short to ultra long

Wasn’t that easy.

My hairstyle keeps changing with season;

I have no particular style.

My hair has its own mood,

My hair takes different shapes,

It’s unpredictable

It’s my inner voice.

My messy tresses

Have no lustre, no beauty

Still it shines for me

Still I feel the glory

I don’t know how appealing

Or how disgusting they look

I find them extremely happy

In a winter morning

After using my Dove shampoo.

My hair reflects my inner voice

And I am true.

My hair isn’t different

I love my hair

I take regular care…

My morning hair,

My afternoon hair,

My midnight hair

My Jim Morrison hair…

I love my silk

It’s ever-changing

Just like me and my feelings…

This post is exclusively written for (Love is a two way street – Dove Indiblogger Contest)

Poetry from the Inner Spaces of My Mind

2011-11-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

Colouring the blank spaces of my mind
With hues of mauve and blue,
Sinking in the benevolent sea,
Feeling the ruthless pain of the uncanny lullaby
Sometimes you feel nothing,
You are completely lost in the vast crowd,
Sometimes you feel the isolation craving for the new sunshine.
The intensity of my heartbeats rises above the dungeons,
It moves beyond the cacophony and the chaos,
It keeps juggling between the blank spaces,
Those unknown spaces that have no existence…

Image credit: kalessaradan.deviantart

Winter Loneliness - Why Loneliness is Ecstatic?

2011-10-20T09:30:00.000-07:00

The music of David Gilmour (On an Island) is creating a dreamlike ambience; the loner is busy writing his chronicle in his studio apartment, he is capturing the ecstasy of being lonely in an overcrowded city. He is mutely inhaling the drifting joy and the lingering silence, he is growing from within, he is catching the stars, and he is alive…

It’s winter again, the sky above his life is still maroon, he is still walking alone amid crowded metro stations, he is still gulping the same purple wine, he is still looking like a confused soul. His inability to communicate with friends, his fear to conquer the everlasting darkness is pushing him towards the tunnel of no return. The winter sunshine isn’t soft, it’s pricking him, he isn’t feeling suffocated, he is just capturing the joy of the spun-out loneliness.

People stare at him when walks, he feels like an alien and a rejected soul, he is strange, he is hungry, he isn’t normal, he is about to go insane. Loneliness is a curse but for him it’s that beauty in disguise. He isn’t bothered about his boredom; he never whines about the paranoia, he is always in search of the mysterious human life following him like a shadow.

Let the trains fly, let fishes walk, let the moon swim, let the open sea greet you, let the loneliness be there. He smiles again, he tries to feel the dead lilies, he closes his eyes to feel the delight, to feel the wonderful curse that’s bestowed upon him. He isn’t unhappy, he is just fine. He isn’t complaining, he is just moving along the whimsical tide…

Image: latoro

I Am No Romantic Poet…

2011-10-19T11:44:00.000-07:00

One day everything will disappear
One day your shadow won’t haunt me
One day all memories will die
One day you won’t find me
One day I will lose you
One day you won’t miss me
One day we will no more see each other
One day you will find your soul mate
But I won’t…
‘cause I don’t want to break my heart again…
It’s made of glass not steel…

I am slowly capturing your ache
I am observing your silence
I am making a picture of your existence
I am trying to paint
I am not trying to escape
I am slowly trying to merge myself
With dust and charcoal
With smokes and void
With your invisibility

I know you are unhappy
You are there, you will be forever
You may laugh at my poems
But you can’t ignore the words written with solid pain.

I have nothing to give
I have nothing to make you happy
I have only words
To satiate myself
To forget your absence…

You flew away; I know you are no more
Interested in my life
I know you are gone with the wind
I know you won’t look back
I know you will also forget my name…
I know you will also become a memory

The bygone light, the eternal darkness
Won’t leave the cursed living room
Everything in my life is momentary
Except the pain that keeps lingering
Just like my old friend,
Just like my shadow
Just like my words
Just like everything
But it’s beautiful, it’s pure delight
It’s fine to dwell in solitude
It’s my passion, it’s my life
It’s about the never-ending pain
It’s my imagination, it’s my lust
It’s something that defines me
It’s something that keeps me detached
It’s my territory, dark but lovely…
It’s my kingdom of ecstasy…

It’s no poem and I am no romantic poet.

Image Credit: enfemenino

High Fiction - Dreams That Won't Die In Oblivion

2011-07-28T09:36:00.000-07:00

I started blogging in the year 2006, things changed, many things evolved, I wrote things that fascinated my soul, I have found paradise in my blog. Suddenly, things started falling apart, I was somehow forgetting the art of putting the right words at the right place, I was troubled by my fleeting thoughts, I felt this to be the end of my journey but suddenly I saw a hazy blue light peeping through the window of my one room apartment, it was trying to tell something, I couldn't interpret the silence though, I was amused to see the light growing bigger and bigger. It completely engrossed my core. I felt peace, I saw magic, I saw the rise of another plant in my corridor and that’s how High Fiction was born….

Please visit my new website High Fiction that’s meant for the cult generation. www.highfiction.com

Image credit: Google images

Nightmares Are Never Colourful – Imagine Your Dreams in Colours…

2011-06-26T10:29:00.000-07:00

Nightmares are never colourful; you see no green, no blue, no beige, and no red together in your dreams. The world inside a dream is completely different, somewhat hazy, unclear and puzzling. You never realise it to be a dream till you wake up from your stupor. The lights and places seen your dream landscape are often mixture of some unacknowledged colours. Trains cruising through the greyish sky, cars flying, it’s difficult to trace their colours. They are often fuzzy and intriguing. It’s a painstaking process to remember your dreams unless they are recurring.

Dreams always fascinated me, I am no dream reader but I love to arrest my dreams and scribble the disconnected events in the notepad. Those afternoon, early morning and late night dreams keep me occupied and I love to manipulate my lucid dreams. Your subconscious thoughts take flight; you see faces of strangers that the retina captures in your day to day life. The uncanny nature of your dreams makes you crazy. You feel relaxed and relieved after an agonizing nightmare. All pain vanishes; all shadows leave you with the morning sunshine. Some dreams make you realise the existence of a person in your life that you never gave importance, some dreams teaches you the art of finding a treasure, some dreams just gives you wings to fly.

Imagine Your Dreams in Colours…

Envisage dewdrops, grasslands, flying mountains, those pictures in your dreams in colours. Try translating that nightmare into a beautiful dream. Smell the fragrance of your loved one, try to paint the surreal landscape with happy colours.

Recovering from pain takes time, the colourless sky in your galaxy no more stays the same, things change and you see those forgotten colours again. Life’s beautiful; it looks best with true shades. A black and white picture may look great, a sepia tinted magazine cover may look chic but life without colours is never fashionable. Let’s add some happiness, let’s design our own little universe, let’s try to fly with colours once again...

This is my entry for HP Laserjet Take Flight With Colour contest organized by Indiblogger.in

Image Credit: hgcorner.com

Silk And The Moonlight - What Does Real Beauty Mean To You?

2011-05-20T09:23:00.000-07:00

Beauty is something that not only stimulates your heart but also your mind. We hardly forget the first sight of that beautiful girl of our school, we never forget the first touch of a gorgeous woman, and we hardly forget the joy of spending time with a good-looking girl. Things keep changing and the meaning of beauty evolves. The new leaf no more stays green, the freshness disappears, things become ugly and eventually the beauty dies in oblivion.

When I try to recollect the moments from my past, I see many faces, many nuances. I see people with all shapes and sizes but only the beautiful and most attractive people hovers around my mind. May be that Beautiful Mind I am talking about.

Physical beauty undoubtedly attracts everyone and we love to spend time with good looking people. Physical beauty isn’t timeless but the time we spend with a real beauty is definitely eternal. Everyone wants his or her partner to look nice. It would be sheer hypocrisy if I say physical beauty doesn’t matter to me but there are always exceptions.

Things change and our perception takes a different route altogether. We no more dwell in the land of fairytales. We forget the glimpse of elves and angels from our dreams. We see ugly people with beautiful masks.

What is real beauty? If I say I find intelligence attractive, if I say people with honest smiles are amazingly striking than a high heeled blonde, if I say the country side girl riding a bicycle defines the virginal beauty, if I say Real beauty is nothing but a myth – People won’t find my words meaningful and trash them as gibberish and tangent however the search for finding the true beauty will never end. Beauty will take new forms; will touch you in various different ways.

The hot sun makes your skin perspire, the stress and every day chaos takes away all your charm. You keep staring at the mirror but you never get back your lost smile. You won’t stay young and beautiful forever, you won’t be conquering the stratosphere every time, you won’t epitomise the lustre and harmony, you are destined to fade, you are destined to lose your beautiful body, beautiful eyes, beautiful silk but a beautiful mind would dazzle in crisis. Her skin would never fade, her words would never die, and she is meant to stay for a long long time.

Real beauty is stirring it is not fake, it is natural and unaware of itself. Real beauty is something that will spread like perfume with time. Real beauty is something much more than nice features and a slim waistline, real beauty won’t die in oblivion, real beauty will inspire you to live one more time….

Real beauty may be awfully ugly but what is ugliness? Real beauty may be voluptuous; may be skinny, may be extremely intelligent, the idea of real beauty is vague still I think a beautiful person knows the art of perfect balance. Real beauty is a feeling, a blissfully eternal thought…

This is my entry for Yahoo India! Dove Real Beauty Writing contest organized by Indiblogger.in . If you like my post, do visit the link and click FB Like button. Silk and The Moonlight

Image Credit: Lindsay Archer

The Weird Romance of a Solitary Poet…

2011-05-15T06:22:00.000-07:00

The boredom, the cacophony, the voluptuous muse, the rudimentary life, the symphonies of a lazy singer, the chance, the telepathy, the inability to come out of fantasy and the never ending delusion keeps the poet aloof from the maddening crowd.

The forgotten wings, that unhappy prose, restlessness and the eternal chaos passionately subdue his whims and fancies. He struggles, he quivers, and he fails to satiate his unending desire.

Afternoon Lullaby

Suddenly someone stimulates the poet. She satiates his broken desire. She makes him fine. The inspiration to live comes from her, he begins to fly, fly and fly.

The Moon less Night

The clueless poet drifts from one corner to another. He is accustomed to distractions, he writes meaningless progressions, and he is no attraction.

The Lost Vocabulary

The poet loses words, he forgets to write. He becomes numb, sees no hope to survive.

The Lonely Smile

The mirror hates the poet. The smile looks ugly. The poet is somewhat crazy; nobody loves him except the beautiful moon. She sends him unlimited kisses, she makes him feel important, she makes him laugh, and she praises his lonely smile…

The Beauty

The lonely poet finds bliss in her bosom, he dreams about the chariot and the moon floating through the endless sky. She kisses the poet, kisses him vehemently, kisses him till the end of the night, throughout the bright sunny days, she takes him away from the chaos.

The Beginning

The poet wakes up with the beautiful dream, scribbles his thoughts in the morn, gazes at the mirror, and gets back his lost smile…

Image Credit: paintinghere

Poetry, Quotes and 140 Characters…

2011-05-14T10:06:00.000-07:00

You are my drug, you are my throbbing heart. you are more than a poem, those unspoken lines between my poetry is you.

I don't hate you, I don't love you, I worship you, I like the very thought of loving you once...

Afternoon is the best time to write something reasonable without any trance, simple straightforward pieces of prose without any metaphors.

I have read somewhere that singledom is the cause of major crimes. PS: I am no bookworm.

If you think I am just a shadow, you aren't making a mistake. If you think I am insane, you are definitely making one.

Slowly the more than half moon tonight is moving towards me, it's singing the forgotten lullaby, haze fading, tranquility descending.

Midnight is my time, I howl, I crawl, I create dreams, I see light, I see you, I see your smile, I hear your voice, sometimes I do try...

Tonight the moon won't hide behind the clouds, tonight the rain drops won't leave your closet, tonight every tree will spread its branches.

Twitter is full of unpublished Romeos.

The maze is giving me sleepless nights but I would never deny the charm. Your fleeting shadow won't torture me. It’ll rejuvenate my ecstasy.

I flew like a bird, the moment you called my name. I broke into pieces the moment you called out another name...

Loneliness is a curse. It pushes the Satan inside you. It takes away all your sanity and eventually you become whimsical.

Boredom isn't bliss. It's a tragedy. It devastates you. It makes you a poet.

The hot sun is making me restless. I want to decipher the silence before my name fades away from your lips. Why the hot sun is so silent?

Addiction. Devastation. Restlessness. Wait. No Reply. Pain. Wait. Reply. Smile. Regularity. Fall. Rise. Fly again. Don't fall. Just pause.

I miss my miss and that half asleep evening kiss. I miss my miss and her soft lips. I miss my miss and her smiley tweets.

The clouds. The sun. The afternoon. The morning glow. The mess. The shine. the name. The glow. The after glow.

I am not from a Victorian era. I am here, I love this contemporary era.

For More Such Crazy Tweets, Follow Me @pallav_

Image Credit: Amazingdata

I Want To Fly With You…

2011-05-10T09:44:00.000-07:00

You gave me wings to fly

You made me smile in between those ruthless nights

You gave me wings

Those wings to fly…

You stimulate my broken desires

You make me take those long deep breaths.

The moment I remember your slant smile,

I quiver, I smile, I walk with delight

I am no poet, I am no lover,

I am just a worshipper

I worship love, I need love

I worship you, I need you…

Don’t close your doors

The clueless traveller wants your corridor.

Don’t forget my words

The worshipper would die of aloofness…

Don’t make me crazy

Don’t make me crawl

Don’t make me cry

Don’t take away my wings of desire

I want to fly with you, fly with you…

Image Credit : nogoodforme.filmstills

This Is No Cinderella Story

2011-05-01T00:59:00.000-07:00

This is no Cinderella story, this is no different romance but there’s definitely an element of magic. That first young spark, that first acceptance, that whimsical journey through the dreamy aisle would inspire every girl to think about castles, horses, and that Prince Charming. Amid chaos, amid so many distractions, amid so much beauty, amid so much ugliness, every girl dreams of wearing her wedding gown. Waiting for magic to happen but little magic we do see in our lives but we definitely see it once. Miracles do happen that’s when we see floating gardens, flying mountains and whispering trees.

The story of William and Kate inspires the new generation because there’s that element of magic. There’s that element of hope. How an ordinary girl finds her Prince Charming? The spark between them nearly fascinated every young and young at hearts. People cried after watching the regal wedding because it’s no ordinary tale. It’s the journey of a commoner to the Royal Palace. Kate Middleton represents every young girl who believes in fairytales, she epitomizes hope, she is just another girl who did everything to keep their relationship stable amid so many distractions. She kept the hope inside her alive although thinking of marriage with a real life Prince wasn’t reasonable. Kate and William took vows almost after 8 years since their first sight. The Royal wedding became a world event and everyone became the audience. It was nothing less than a fairytale…

Some moments in life do leave a mark in the sands of time; some moments in life makes you quiver in fright and some moments vehemently takes you away for a while. Witnessing the Royal Wedding wasn’t less than reading those Literature books, those Victorian poems…

The journey from those clandestine meetings to their first public kiss is something every writer would love to narrate; every musician would love to compose. The wedding was like a fairytale because it’s not only about Royal families; it’s not only about big fat wedding rather it’s all about every girl’s dream to find her inner princess, it’s all about finding her very own Prince charming…

There are always exceptions, there are variations of thoughts, there are people with Gamophobia and many of you may not like this because it may sound unreal and you have a choice to disregard this as another fluffy tale.

It may not be a Royal wedding but it's surely a fairy tale when you find your special someone...

Procrastination – A Subconscious Addiction

2011-04-17T09:20:00.000-07:00

Our daily life may look quite mundane, it may start with an irritating wake up alarm, you crave to sleep 10 more minutes, and you finally get courageous to step out of your bed.

Everything looks hazy in the morn, slowly your eyes open and you take that regular shower and step outside your silken apartment, and have your regular tea at your regular tea shop, reach office regularly late, sit in front of the machine, check your mails and start working then you would love to have tea, then work again, tea, work, tea, work, lunch, tea, work, and finally you steal time to see those crazy updates from your friends and relatives residing across the globe and work again. The whole process if recorded by a cam would generate same sort of movements. It will be an uninteresting time lapse video however you may or may not produce something worthwhile during your daytime.

You walk out of your office and see the evening rush in the form of traffic dying to reach their respective homes as fast as possible. They run after public transports, shouts, yells and finally they reach home after such a wonderful chaos. After spending so many hours at work, they again crave to switch on their laptops and check mail, some people watch T.V, some listen to music and some people go for a walk with their favourite people. The evening ends and you sleep…

We all keep procrastinating, keep delaying trips, meetings and finally end up actually doing nothing. The major problem with the younger generation is laziness. How to overcome this problem is the question but is it possible to defeat this subconscious drive that makes your life extremely mundane. Self reform isn’t that easy but we all try to do a bit to make our life little smoother by changing our daily life minutely as possible. Everyone’s doing that but how effective are the changes is the question. Addiction is a subconscious thing and procrastination is definitely the worst thing. In order to make your life little better, you should keep making little changes daily which will surprisingly make a different time lapse video and consequently make you a better individual may be…

Image: itsundercontrol

What's Behind a Stare - All about Good, Bad and Ugly Stare

2011-04-16T08:17:00.000-07:00

Staring or not staring...that is the question! India is a conservative country, we are little orthodox, little laidback, little impish. People here love to stare at good looking girls wearing scanty as well as not-so scanty clothes. Gawking is the legacy of an Indian man therefore women here feel little uncomfortable even in a short skirt, forget wearing a Bikini.

We have seen very little, we want to decipher more; we have experienced less, so we talk more. Sometimes every one acts like a pervert, this is not due to lack of education or over education; this is due to the hidden stories which men in India craves to read.

Why people give such an ugly stare, why they pester a girl wearing modern outfits, sometimes the question torture every girl. Indian girls have so less dressing option. Nobody’s saint in this satanic world but there’s hardly any need to pester every girl walking in a sub-urban street.

It’s a human tendency to see a good looking girl/ boy walking but it may not be necessarily a bad stare. If you are a girl and reading this, you may know the difference between a good and bad gaze. What lies behind a stare? Is it fair to torture every female with your lusty gape, is it good to walk without acknowledging the beauty or it’s simply a different genre that a man can’t think.

Why boys stare? There are many reasons that tempt a boy to gaze heavily. Some women have eternally good shape, they hardly do anything to flaunt their beauty, they automatically grab your eyeballs, and your one eye naturally moves towards them but is it sane to stare? Every female is unique, they are beautiful but some girls do try to be extra conscious when somebody tries to gaze at them. They hate to see a man staring at them, they may give an obnoxious look, and they may not like it.

The confusion of staring or not staring would stay forever but Indian men would never stop gazing. It’s something that every one does and I am not an exception especially in a place like Delhi where there’s no dearth of good looking girls. If you are profound and hate to indulge in earthy things, then you are certainly an exception. The controversy would stay forever, girls may not always like your inquisitive gaze, and they may not always forgive you. It’s a crazy world, it’s fairly hypocritical, moderately rational but it’s definitely not a world of perverts, sometimes fine people also ogle. How to change the very mindset of Indian men? They would never change for sure. These are only my opinion, what do you think? Staring or not staring...that is the question!

If you look interested she won’t be interested
If you ignore her …She’ll run after you.

The idea was suggested by a girl I was staring at…

Image: slfashionpassion

Facebook Song

2011-03-27T03:37:00.000-07:00

If you don’t see me online,
Don’t think I am offline
If you don’t find my poke
Don’t think I don’t miss you
If you don’t see my updates
Don’t think I am away…

The facebook is mine
The facebook is mine
I have everything if I have you
I have nothing if I lose you…

It isn’t an addiction, it’s not narcissism
It’s simply my boredom,
It’s my obsession,
It’s the only song
Everyone’s singing all along…

The facebook is mine
The facebook is mine
I no more read newspapers
I no more watch television
I just log into my FB account.

Someday, it’s going to be fine
You would laugh at my song
Someday, we all would recall
About our facebook days
Someday we would be no more seen
Till then
Keep singing the facebook song…

The Recurring Nightmare

2011-03-23T12:17:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was a man who never smiled, never talked, never whispered or uttered any word. He was living in a solid delusion, solid pain, and solid boredom. He died every night, he cried every noon. His face became ugly, he slowly began to sink. The story of his life was never heard; his words disappeared. Nobody tried to look into his heart, nobody tried to give him another chance.

Recurring dreams kept pestering him day in and day out. He kept flying endlessly, he kept falling from cliffs. He never woke up with a smile; there was sweat even in a crazy winter night.

Amid the eternal darkness, he was searching for candlelight to light up his dungeon; he was trying to crawl through the broken stairs. He captured every thing that tried to come to his life. He was confused about life at large.

Once upon a time there was man who never smiled, there was a zombie who walked unnoticed, who survived the toughest battle with his inner self, who slowly gathered everything again to give life an another chance…

Photo: Videojug

Crazy Urban Rhapsody

2011-03-13T04:00:00.000-07:00

The night was overwhelmingly dark
Woke up with a little hangover
And found it to be an idyllic Sunday morning.
Slept again for a while,
Thought of waking up all over again
to enjoy the entire day extravagantly.
Thousand emotions in a single day
Summer sunshine, lazy people,
Capturing those tiny nuances
Scribbling them with sleepy fingers
Faraway from the extreme nothingness,
Thoughts waving through the absolute silence
Tranquility prying into the restless essence
Rousing me to craft a rhapsody,
Something between prose and poetry
Something between imagination and procrastination
Something not meaningful enough,
Something diluted with too much literature and glee…

Pray for Japan

2011-03-11T08:20:00.000-08:00

The earth quivered, human lives were taken away, many dreams, many emotions were erased from the face of the world. The unpredictable Mother Nature once again played a heinous joke. The destruction shook the entire earth. Thousands of people are still missing; the lights are slowly turning into darkness. People from every parts of world are praying for Japan. Sometimes everything happens so quickly that we never get time to react, we just feel a void. The videos shown in the Youtube channels are giving all of us goose bumps.

The monstrous waves are showing no mercy, it’s just moving endlessly killing people who worked so hard to create those living places. The world is grieving tonight. No matter where we are, we could feel the tragedy; we could feel the pain of losing your loved ones suddenly. We are praying, we are just praying for light. We hope to see the tempest stop; we no more want the waves to destroy our beautiful world. Tonight, we are praying for Japan, tonight we are praying for the world. We hope to see that bright sunshine again, we no more want to see the ugly waves hitting the innocent shores…

Dirty Evenings, Husky Moonlight and a Simpleton

2011-03-10T11:02:00.000-08:00

All urban evenings are full of action. Sometimes they are filled with lust, sometimes they look eternally monotonous. Sometimes you get enough attention; sometimes you are just lost in your thoughts. A big city life makes you restless; you have so many things to do. You never get time to complete everything, you reluctantly sleep. There’s so much information all around, you hardly get time to consume, you are just like a half cooked meal and your knowledge seems so irrelevant. You laugh, you stare, and you make fun of yourself.

The Satan inside tempts you to indulge, it gives you the strength to do whatever you want, it keeps you guilt free. Everyday you wake up halfheartedly, you take a lazy shower, you wear your shades, have a cup of tea, work, and return back to your castle. Thousands of thoughts revolve around your mind, you try to concentrate, and finally you give up. You see hundreds of wedding pictures in your facebook news feed, you praise their lovely faces finally you look inside in your life that looks fairly uninteresting. You pretend to hate Indian culture, you try to reform your lifestyle, and you try to do so many things.

India is a conservative country and people here are extremely reputation conscious. You are not allowed to speak absurd things, you are not allowed to kiss in public places, and you are not allowed to take an unconventional route. There’s pessimism, there’s prejudice. Life in an urban setting is somewhat crazy. Everyone seems to be whining at their air conditioned cabins, nobody is satiated from what they are doing. The poetry is somewhere missing as our busy lives never allow us to be whimsical. You are just treated as a simpleton if you appreciate humanities. You have to look, act and talk practically. You should basically look presentable. All quirky creatures found outside fashion designing colleges and advertising agencies are regarded as mad souls by the common people. People hardly want to talk to a lost moron. They are dirty, artistic and sad. Girls mostly prefer super practical bankers, doctors and sometimes engineers. All quirky people keep cribbing endlessly in disgust.

Fairytales! Suddenly the moon becomes bigger. You envisage castle in the air, the world changes colour, worries disappear, bliss finds you, your eyes flicker, you see sunshine, you praise the actual world where you live, and you discard all pent up emotions. You appreciate all tiny nuances of life. You no more search for your shadow in the dark. That’s how you juggle between reality and a beautiful fiction…

Image Credit: Creativefan

How to Find Your Shadow in the Dark?

2011-03-09T08:44:00.000-08:00

As we grow old, we face enough complexities daily. Life becomes a spider web; everything moves away, every hope disappears. You walk with a heavy heart trying to figure out what’s right and what’s wrong. You go in a trance, you feel nothing, and you see nothing. Emptiness becomes your only friend, your only enemy. You see people running behind buses, trains, running for survival.

Your confusions grow, your heart throbs reluctantly, and you search for an outlet to vent off. Premonitions, nightmares, loneliness and other unwanted visitors keep disturbing your chaotic soul. You try to envisage things that may not be available to you in this life, you try to cross the ocean with your broken ship, you become nonsensical, and your madness makes you silent.

People keep whining about their pain but the adversity never leaves them so easily. Nobody thinks about a loser. Time is money, and money is time. Poets are treated badly, writers die lonely, and philosophers live in their dilapidated caves. The world loves practical approach, speed and accuracy.

Howling at the middle of a silent night with pain is no more a fiction. People no more sleep well, they have trouble. There’s so much pain all around the horizon. Oh! The weather’s changing, let’s feel the summer rain, let’s forget all our sorrows for a moment, just jump around like a three year old. Sometimes we have to accept whatever we get; sometimes we just have to feel our shadows somewhere resting in the dark…

Life without Intelligence…

2011-03-05T07:57:00.000-08:00

Old bicycle days, music played on tape recorder,
Trump cards, afternoon cricket sessions.
That first preschool crush makes you smile.
You are simply at your best without intelligence,
You feel life when you erase all knowledge for a while,
You dance with the private wind for a moment,
You are little young again.

Everyone is tired, sulking still fighting for survival. Your words look irrelevant, you suddenly forget everything. Your mind becomes numb, your blank face reappears.

You have no words left, you face an eternal crisis. The rudiments of your mistaken past linger on. You forget to smile, you forget about the world that ever existed in your life, you become a lost soul, you fail to deliver, you silently laugh at yourself, you say no word, and you just keep walking. You become the famous escapist.

You never forget to praise loneliness, you feel like a shadow in a gathering. Sometimes you become fanatical, sometimes the hysteria totally engrosses your mind, you die every night, and those big tear balls never abandons your eyes.

Slowly everyone around you vanishes, you no more see that old bicycle, you forget your pre school crush, and you no more fly. You keep gazing at the stars that no more flickers.

You close your eyes, inhale fresh air, stop typing, and go back to your arm chair to weave another tale. You decide to walk ahead along the tide; you know there’s a life without intelligence waiting outside where you have no restrictions, where there are green pastures, where you have a perpetual license to fly…

Image Credit: lotroreporter.com

How to Tweet Like Jim Morrison

2011-02-26T10:55:00.000-08:00

Microblogging! The new addition to the content hungry universe is making everyone bit crazy. Some people are investing hefty sum of money to gain followers, some folks tweeting extra sensible quotes, some individuals trying to be little humorous, the celebrities gaining millions of followers overnight and some people are still dazed. They retweet, copy paste some old quotations, sometimes news and views and most of the times they just keep gazing at the time line without having any words to write.

Twitter is bit confusing for a newbie therefore only smart, intelligent and suave people hangs out here. It’s a safe haven for internet marketers for generating enough traffic, it’s the mouthpiece of the depressed revolutionaries, it’s an extremely satiating platform for writers, and it’s definitely a lighthouse for the lost but everybody isn’t successful in gaining followers, retweets and replies. Tweeting shamelessly day in and day out may not be a good idea. Please don’t spam for god’s sake.

Jim Morrison’s thoughts were deep. His disconnected words had enough meaning. His songs were touted as classic. He is the God of the cult generation. He is alive for his followers because he was different. His poems were simple yet very profound. Jim Morrison is the new religion. He would have ruled the urban sky if he would have been alive but sadly all good things abandon us before the rise.

Oh Twitter! The next best thing for a blogger but it’s really hard to establish yourself in this fast rising world. You are no Justin Bieber or Lady Gaga, you are no Ashton Kutcher or Kim Kardashion. Your words may not be taken seriously but you definitely have to say something to the world may be much more profound things than one could hardly imagine. Twitter gives you power to flaunt your logical madness. Tweet everyday. Tweet for love, keep retweeting but don’t forget to create original content as real things never go unrecognized. Remember, it’s a crazy world and only wild things make news therefore tweet something illogically different…

My Twitter: Don't Unfollow me

The New Literature…

2011-02-20T01:39:00.000-08:00

Getting your ass signed off by a stripper, having affairs with your professor, pumping and swinging whole night in high end pubs are just passé. Lady Gaga’s unique lifestyle, Rob’s paleness, Mark’s geeky ideas, Paulo Coelho’s magic realism, Nolan’s Inception, Peter Jackson’s recreation of shire and hobbits, the New York Times' bestsellers turning into movies, the rise of writers, the urban aloofness, the virtual gaming and dating scenes are becoming the New Literature.

There’s a fresh wave in the blogging stratosphere, the world is embracing social media, revolutions becoming snazzier and the results are quick and satiating. The bright blue sky is exuding newer fantasies, real toys to play with. Relationships are falling apart but the visual effects aren’t traumatising. The narcissism intruding the urban sky with perfect ease and nobody is complaining. The humanity is definitely rising.

The reincarnation of Jim Morrison, Bob Marley and William Shakespeare is on the process. The medieval world is tweeting from the grave. The geeks are getting Victoria’s Secret angels and the studs are dying unmarried and disheartened. The concept of beauty is changing. It’s evolving; the craze for Kim Kardashian’s voluptuous butts, the uniquely shaped Jolie’s lips, and the supernatural presence of Rushdie are truly mesmerising the galaxy. The monotony is breaking down into pieces.

The poetry of this age is different. It may not have that Victorian touch but it is definitely touching you. Thousands of new words are added to the urban dictionary daily. The restless generation is somewhat difficult to interpret but the melancholy is evenly reciprocated.

There’s dirt, there’s venomous smokes, there’s an itch to kick hard, the hedonism, the right to live, the right to live without guilt, the late night howling, the guns and the roses are becoming a part of the present. It’s growing endlessly, the thirst to taste different things, and fake exorcisms are making the world hollow yet very entertaining.

No more big words should devastate this space hence we should keep doing that suits us best. We shouldn’t come under any false assumption; we should close our eyes and ask Lord to take us through the exact aisle of hope. Discovering bliss amid this chaos could be pleasurable, there’s always a new beginning and there’s certainly an end to every good thing…

Image Credit: deshow.net

The Fantastic Life of a Loner…

2011-02-14T00:58:00.000-08:00

Elves, flying mountains, ghosts, mermaids, dreams, Anglo-Saxon castles and a timeless silent universe amuse him. His heart flies away, the red looking wine and the venomous smokes makes him insane. The chaos, the turbulence, the quagmire of a hollow life keeps torturing his already sinking heart. Where is love? Where are those smiles? Where is that glow of his yesteryears?

He is so very detached from the real world. The cloak of hypocrisy that he wears is becoming too heavy for his survival. The turmoil and the cacophony play games with his naive corpse. He is slowly moving towards a bright light, he is unable to find his guardian angel; he is no more witnessing the magical light above his soul mate.

Time stopped completely, the boat isn't moving, the trees aren’t talking, and the burning desire has all faded away. The numbness has taken over. He couldn’t feel the twinge, he is unable to walk straight, and he is fallen and disguised. Everything around him looks like a monster, every word from strangers sound ruthless. This world isn't the best place for him.

Take him away to the land of music, take him to that Neverland, take him to a place where nothing ugly survives and take him away from this lonely, desolate and unhappy place. Why the ghosts of dead boring poets keep tempting him, why he loves the absurdity, why is he so different? Why he struggles to make eye contacts? Why he keeps running from the crowd? The loner inside him is growing, it’s getting bigger.

The crazy restlessness, procrastination, jammed cell phone; shackled life is preventing the loner to fly, to meet beautiful people with same hearts. His ugly face with so many dark spots exudes nothing but boredom, his presence is disturbing to the entire universe.

There are people like him, there are more people unlike him but there’s surely a part of everyone in him. The fantastic life of a loner isn’t a fiction; it’s the only reality in this fast changing world. We are living here and we can’t escape…

Happy Valentine's Day...

Image Credit: art-spire.com

The Bright Darkness – The Lady and the Swindler

2011-02-12T09:53:00.000-08:00

She quivers when the swindler touches her. She cries in agony and despair. She tries to flee but the venom has already started reacting. She’s poisoned and hypnotized, she is right under the tricky shadows of gloom; she is unable to move out and make love.

The swindler is moving with a hot iron rod trying to curse humanity. He is dancing like a creepy creature. His eyes are red, blood cold as ice. There’s a flash of golden light behind the mountains - far from the murky shadows but the venom is spreading, scattering like the wild fire in the bush.

The symphony of the nightingale is satiating the bard of loneliness. He is scribbling pages about the known and the unknown. The old man with a fashionable hat is walking through the aisles of solitude. He is forgotten by his sons and daughters. He is left alone to die.

The weed, the hemlock is endlessly praising the lords. The hitchhiker isn’t stopping; he is busy deciphering the dingy corridors, the haunted corners of the world. The melting wall, the Tsunami affected areas and the land of the living dead is creating curiosity. The hitch hiker is unstoppable now.

Oh love where are you? The curse is killing the heart broken lover. He is dying and living, he is killing his dream every night, and he is unable to come out…

She is running away from the swindler. She is trying to find the flash of golden light. He is creating mazes for her; he is making her life complex. The bad and ugly dreams of leafless trees and a skinny shadow of the swindler are squeezing her blood. The venom inside her is growing. She is breathing heavily, she is moving aimlessly through the aisles of solitude…

There’s no fairytale ending in the real life, there’s only some madness and chaos spawned from broken dreams and lost empires.

The story hasn’t started yet…

Image Credit: neosurrealism.artdigitaldesign

Oh Kaziranga! An Unforgettable Journey…

2011-02-08T09:21:00.000-08:00

The journey was someone’s dream; the trip was unlikely filled with nostalgia, the known valley was exuding extreme bliss, those faces outside the window screen had unique smiles, the whispering meadows kept accompanying us. The captivating Assamese sojourn starts from here…

Finally we are going to Kaziranga National Park - It’s the place where my dad started his career as a Range Officer, the place which is located in the heart of extreme darkness. One horned rhinos, elephants, tigers, wild pigs, varieties of bird species dwells here. The sanctuary is a natural treasure -unexplored and unrecognised.

Although the purpose of our trip was sheer fun yet there was a silent craving within us to decipher the Assamese jewel – The Kaziranga voraciously this time around. We all wanted to see a Tiger before they all disappear. There was so much excitement; there was that breeze of love flying all around us. The North-East India has so much to offer. The soothing music of Zubeen Garg, Angaraag Mahanta, and Joi Barua was played throughout the trip. We discussed about the laidback village life, we praised the timeless hills and valleys.

The drive from Guwahati to Kaziranga was a visual treat. The lazy mountains made us to ponder; they tempted us to stay there forever. We crossed places like Sonapur, Jagiroad, and Nagaon. We halted in a highway Dhaba for having our breakfast. We had sumptuous Puri and Chabzi (My Jeeju’s favourite) who came with sister from London on a short vacation. We thought of clicking a group photograph in front of the highway hotel for memories. We resumed our journey. Everyone was busy listening to the songs as they were beautifully customised by my brother Bikash Sidney (who is currently pursuing engineering from Chennai). My brother Manzil was in the front seat and was the DJ of our tour. I and another cousin Pranzil were in the backseat. Basically the younger generation of our family was travelling.

Wow! We got an early glimpse of the Rhino. We stopped our car to gaze at the beauty. We were amazed to see a Rhino near the road. Kaziranga is yet far. We are lucky enough to get a peek. Slowly we began to see tea gardens and resorts. We are into the territory and now we have to search for the Guest House where we would stay that night.

It was around 12 O’clock, we reached the yellow colored Guest house mutely sitting atop the small hill. The location was simply ideal. There were waterfalls, rocks and a wooden bridge. It was nothing less than a paradise. The air around gave us a feeling of wonderment. There were already some people waiting for us, the lunch was ready but we thought of having it after the Elephant ride. We kept our luggage and drove away to the jungles. We had one more co-traveller now. His name was Deb (name changed). He was our guide. Finally, we boarded the big elephant. It was extremely a different experience. The elephant took us inside the jungle; he rode us to deepest and the loveliest part of Kaziranga. He moved slowly amid grassland. There were deer, birds, and peacocks – there were everything. Our heart kept throbbing hard, we were mesmerised to see the never seen landscapes. There were lakes, herds of elephants and deer. We went to the restricted area, we finally saw the King. The tiger! The real one…He was sleeping. We kept gazing at him. We thought about his survival amid so much hatred and greed for money. He gave us an inspiration to survive in extreme conditions. The elephant ride was the best experience of our trip. It was my dad’s dream; he wanted us to feel the love, fear and joy of living in jungles. We never would have understood the excitement if he wouldn’t have planned this surprise trip for us. We spent the night like kings. The people in the guest house prepared exceptional Assamese cuisines. The bonfire, the barbeque, the encounter with wild pigs, the emotions, the ghosts, the pleasure of having red wine in cold winter night in front of fire amid hills and waterfalls can’t be explained in words. We visited the tea gardens, the rubber and coffee plantations; we went to the matchless Ethnic Garden – the proud of Karbi Anglong.

(Tea Garden)

We played badminton in the Iora resort. We discussed about the contrast of living in an urban setting and inhaling a rustic air. Everything about the trip was perfect. There was so much love there; I could never forget the people who did everything to make our short stay happy. They made special preparations, they are the real people living in the farthest corner of the earth – unrecognised and unacknowledged. Whenever, I think about the trip, I think of love that people of Assam have. Undoubtedly Assam is one of the best places on earth to live and Kaziranga is the most beautiful national park in the world.

My Cleartrip Entry: Every Trip Has A Purpose

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