My Search for Something

Till I feel a little familia to this, I refrain accepting that it’s been a hell of a ride back and forth home. Closer to this broken heart is now a world I stand against; a place where dwelling on your own is a mistake less forgiven.

Something contradicts my past. That single moment itching me as to why things happen. Catching on the laughter and joy of nostalgia is the sole thing my mind does to stay cool. While the music is off, I sing and dance like I don’t see the chaos around. It’s to make sure I be myself at all times. My heart got trenched by the breeze of the shrewd new world and so solemnly I be the leader of it following the suit.

I beat my throbs with blood of failure, if all that I know is true in it’s form. Choice is a meagre idea of living. I want too much to be acceptable. I wish beyond what I can fulfil. I question as to why I was happy from the sham that the world had offered me. Atleast I succeeded even if everything was wrong! Now, I stand where the fair is over and it’s going to rain fire.

Something is unfair. Sometimes that was supposed to bring prosperity and satisfaction is nowhere in scene. Is it my idea of escaping the world? Or not accepting the destiny I’m supposed to follow? Or my want to sleep over luxury of the story that I fantasize? What’s that something exactly? A place, a person, an event, or just an idea? My exploration is closer to my find, I cannot but feel the tunnel approaching it’s end. It shouldn’t be as wasteful as I think it could be an idea so progressive that I surpass myself as as better human. It shouldn’t fill me with anxiety and repression. It should make me talk intrapersonally like infinitely. It’s failure to reach the ends of the road and it’s need to quench the thirst of motives of the day, I shouldn’t rely on hopes.

I’m happy. The search is on. It shall close. Now or never.

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You Don’t See!

Whilst staring at a young lad uttering some words in his mouth, I could make he’s in a lip sync with some sort of derogatory music. Cute he may be, little of it he may understand out of the words, but a dismal truth had hit me hard; I don’t see what I ought to see, life.

In the chaos of things, we hardly get time to introspect. Occasionally, we ask for our review from the people around. I may have read a couple of effective books, but I don’t sway away from feeling the inertia that the break of life gives. It’s hard to realise the failure after continued efforts of doing what was obvious. With the play of words, I try to relate today’s quest with every day that comes and with anyone willing to lead, experiences. The paucity of ideas shallows down my upright approach. I still drive while I see the details a little less. The danger of losing out eventually takes greater shape.

I love these moments!

When it’s the lights out time, dimming the pace of the day and seeing the breath drowning into an unknown world, I infer each and every word of mine said and listened to as a gift of knowledge. I see my grin lightening up the dingy stage of life. I even listen the littered unheard words of the people wandering across the night sky looking for listeners! I deeply regret for the wrong that I do but nevertheless, it hits the chords right.

If time would have every answer to every confusion that exists, I feel undesirably arrogant in knowing one. It hurts when trees speak when you dare seek silence in the forests. I wonder what this air have for me, does that make me an avid interrogator? I don’t think so. But I feel as to why those souls have every unrespectable answers on their tips. They see my silent but they don’t see me wobbling which I admit I do. If every awkward answer in an awkward situation needs an awkward answer for an awkward people, I’m not up for the job. The best is always left unsaid.

I surrender to the veils that people wear. I say to myself I don’t see anything. I don’t wish to

At The End of the Day!

Before this beginning, if the pages weren’t blank, I wouldn’t have begun. Empty that that is, a world of wonders, it becomes rather relevant to compose whether it creates meaning or it doesn’t… It just better to keep it filling or it’ll just be a swamp over laziness..

Those few seconds left to lose until the dying day, 

Few memonts to spare ourselves and listen… 

If tonight these words will hit the right chord, 

All of the world will make it’s worth come true. 

This in the morning would anyone have wondered if I would knew this night has to end with failure in hand. And every so, does this day keeps on going like an aeroplane in the sky unknown where to go. Direction is what those in the meters digitally there show, but I don’t know where to go. Still I’m in the air flying on the heights of life. At the verge of shrinking dreams, one seems losing the urge to fly. There’s so land offering sweetness and bitterness is what that follows the flow. And at the end if the day, an empty soul finds an empty mate. 

Listen to this story, as if it isn’t something new but it’s different. Near your ears, listen to the music shuffling the tones one after the another. Shift your feet a little and feel the hollowness beneath the earth. Move your eyes around and witness the slumber. 
So, this be the end of to day and impossibly another one to follow!

A Few Good Men

Enough said for the world, it’s the time to yield positivity for us! 

So, yes we aspire to be the perfect version of ourselves at all times. Not completely over our pride but on our overall looks too. The world seems to realise our importance by the way we dress and how we flaunt our biceps and triceps. Yes, we see a better future for ourselves and in the music of present we sing the song of other’s beauty and fell no short for appraising the same. Time for us is a validity to get things done. We want more of it just in the case of success, but it passes just like a blow of air in the spineless atmosphere. 

We are truly confused in our own senses as to we fail to truly understand what’s the other side of the story. It may be about the other sex, the background plot of some mischievous activity that happened to be in our work environment or to realise what could be a better aspect of doing something. It just that we cannot fully understand but can make a newer version of understanding things. This makes a plenty of misinterpreted happenings around the world a little less confusing. 

We admire trust and commitment. We put our stakes on anything that makes us feel confident about ourselves and just in case we fail, we don’t lose heart. We explore the possibility of losing at a larger scale than to lose at nothing. After all, death is also a loss of life for us. And yes, this doesn’t makes us less emotional. We feel and take people’s words just equally carefully as the other sex do. We sometimes just don’t bother to shred off our decency. 

So, yes this is who we are. What we seem to believe in is just a mystery. Like a lake water waiting to meet the sea, similarly we wait and work to keep on going towards what seems legit to us. We can’t stop, we won’t stop. And just to make sure that success comes to us, we keep consistent. And to let you know, the world isn’t a business deal for us, we are open to tear our heart out for those who deserve to hear our story. 

And yes, there are a few Good men who understand atleast themselves….

Life Is a Bazaar

This time I won’t let an idle chance of forgetting what I’m going to write. Why? You question… I can’t wait to forget for the life is a bazaar and if I pause, jam will happen! Got it? 

This I recall from an incident from yester evening when on the road, my counterparts were flying on their wheels in the midst of a circle with four exits. It seemed like with the dying day, their hopes of getting back home was also dying. So, they were extensively pushing off their accelerators which their wheels inherited. Struggle to get to the other bank of road was exhausting. I was struck as I had to wait for others to pass in order to find a way through. I tried and failed and failed until a spokesperson came in between the jiggles in my mind. A rikshawala( trolley puller) forcing his tire on the people found a reason to help me out. “Bhaiya yeh bazaar haii, yahan aise hi chalta haii. Nhii chloge toh jam padh jayega!(O Brother, This is a bazaar, it is just supposed to be like this. If won’t move ahead, jam will occur! )”.  The reason I can predict was his generosity! 



All I gave in return was a smile. And maybe with this smile he grasped how graceful his comment was, atleast for me. I took no time to relate it with life, our dearie! 

People celebrate shopping in bazaars. No other beauty other than a beautiful women can compete with the beauty of buying new. I must confess I find a lady the most beautiful while she is engaged in buying something for herself. A little apart from the topic but this in the name of beauty! 

So damn this jam in the world. It’s oversaturated with people. It’s already done with all the accomplishments. Only improvements are what we crave for. And atleast that we must all do. No matter you are struck at anything for long. It’s exhausting you, torturing you and blaming you for all you did in the past. You try to give a no no to this. Listen to your heart. Yes, you won’t have a fortune like mine that I got something who spoke of my heart when every hope seemed dimming. You have the biggest Lantern in yourself, your heart. So, pump it for the right reason, and improve with every day that you happen to live in. If you won’t, jam will happen! 

The Cry of a Realist

There’s much of an amusement out there, but the consciousness says it’s nothing but the vice awaiting and people suffering nipping themselves in the bud“. 

We do have faintest ideas of our childhood, being the idealistic and most of the time cheerful for even nothing that we had. Things evaporated in the wider air of future life and consequently we are missing ourselves within the real world. 

Where the Gods would gift children as blessings from the heaven to the lap of the mothers, those were the bodies adding up to the population leading to poverty and inequality. 

Where we would usually stare at the streetlights, and wink and smile before them, those were out of electricity sensing a corruption in Municipalities for their failure on every part. 

Where we would cruise across the roads in a seemingly endless roads leading to our birthplaces, those are now the roads which are just the same bearing no development in decades and sighing on the crush of glass and metal and blood on them.

Where in the April evenings, we would blush with the orange of the sunset but would continue with the play till gets to the moon, now seem disappeared. Neither those evenings neither the people who would find no scarcity in sharing happiness. 
When in lieu of our comfort zones, we would rather prefer landscapes and the air and the rain. And now the landscapes that veil litter around themselves seal no deal for a visit. 
This isn’t the talk of what we percieve, it’s about what’s left to either draw our eyes to. Because there’s so much of reason trauma before anything, it’s hard not to amplify the disgust and inaction. Apart from the wishes that have came true, the prayers that have been answered but to the eyes who sees no dreams, it’s the realism that bear a big share in the blame game. 

Now that’s too much that’s happening, but without us in the real world, the cries are unheard, left for dump and ignored till the eternity answers it’s identity. Prolifically, the reply lies within. It’s once explored and lived. An idea that’s superficially and impossible. But so far, it’s the idealistic world I know, a place where nothing is weird and erraneous. 

Is it? Yes, it is!

I’m more like a coming on straight to issues that pushes us back a lot, diminishes ourselves and let’s us feel bad about ourselves in often times. 
Inspired by what I’m going to say in this pretty screenshot, it exclaims how brimmed our world is. Its full of poor, rich or mediocre people, people who nothing nothing, or people who at smart arts or people who are just living, things that exists, or is inexistent or waiting to exist, ideas that have become law, or ideas that mean nothing or the ideas that are about to come or events or emotions or values or everything that’s delightful to pay attention to, get compiled and be presented in a nicer way.  
These ages, these pages and these stages, why do anyone need them anymore? An insufficient question to diring need of the hour, or maybe the perfect question the way it has to be… 
With a whole lot of people getting engaged into stuff, and with people coming the e-motions and with the e-motions coming the changes, and so far the leading efforts of everything that’s happening with no censorship, no filters and no gatekeepers, how are we so equipped in doing in what we are doing? Where is the inspiration? How are we working on something that’s not been working out or on that that had already worked out or that’s unequivocal if it’s going to work or not? Or with still memories fading away and coming on like a seasonal change, how far are we really going to work on and still believe that’s it’s going to make an understanding? 

I think, the question is not in believing it or not. The question is not what is really going to matter or not. Or it isn’t like I’m going to get inspired with some slight change in my hormones while concerning a single idea that is motivational or it at best relates me or just it’s going to figure out what my next movement is going to be or if I shall put back my boredom, my anxiety, my enthusiasm or my Ability or anything that comes out of me and any confused blurry line of amusement or or a slight care to what I’m going to write, or what anyone is going to witness with me putting forward what I intended to do, what I’m going to do, if I concern that I’m writing about my concerns only or at last my words which are slightly trying to mould the root cause I’m trying to display. 
It ain’t about anything at last. 
Coming out of a Chaos when we reach home, we feel safe. We feel relieved because it’s how it has to be. Homes are built for sharing love, being in a family, relaxation and so on. It ain’t about a question if there should be anyone’s home or not, or what homes are about or what homes did good for you or what are you going to do with your home in any time. 
It ain’t been any question, it’s never been a commiseration for me or anybody, the only two existent sides of a life. It ain’t been anything… 
Its like nobody cares, but they do. They do because they have to, and there’s no choice whatsoever. This is how the world is built. But admires care is to what extent they have been in impact. Without this information of impact, nothing would have existed, even this blog post wouldn’t have. Or even me.