Imagination

When asked to draw a picture of a farmer ploughing his field in the dawn with fresh drops of sweat making it’s presence felt, and his sickle making the sand dance, my thoughts sickened to an end before I began thinking if imagination is more important than knowledge. What if I don’t know what a sickle looks like, for instance?

So drunk in darkness are we today, if a candle of bright thoughts sneak our brains, we stare away from the intensity of newness that has entered. Nobody wishes to hear the rhythm that life brings about. Nobody wishes to dance away all the bitterness that ponds amongst the banks of negligence. We don’t wish to step, even make a positive call. Lack of imagination takes over as a protagonist of a willfully meaningless story.

When the groups are assembled to practice an ambition, is it a legitimate preposition to approve of the inaccuracy of group to attain a certain goal by being the sole doer? Why fit in when you are born stand out! Imagine the doers in the world…. Do you have any knowledge about them?

Clearly one could sense there’s a serious foulness at play, but you walk in and out as you please. Imagine the level of courtesy the group members possess that they tolerate you as one of their own!

Why need to imagine the distinction of thoughts that I have brought together in this piece of writing if it’s already there in it’s truest form. One must not shy away form stitching these thoughts as all are entitled under one idea: imagination.

Imagine some more meaningless thoughts beyond this full stop.

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The Lantern on the Chair 2

She’s a known world, an aftermath of a brilliantly crafted story projected to selected people of questionable character. She’s something one sees and keeps in mind for a while and then forgets, as if it never happened. A moral that is never meant to be learnt or a vista that is never to be stored in a beautiful memory. Still she persists, as life persists as long as the breath is alive.

Her charishma in the cruel world stands tall. Her tales of mystery still confuses the real you. Her smile of dignity finds a place amongst the fear of losing things. And there, we quip to ourselves if she’s still the lantern on the chair we once saw and unconditionally believed in.
 Of course, she is… 

Having written and asked the words of life in one conversation where the people over the other side of the world stood still, the noises made no more audible to this rather overly active ears, and the nature went curious as to how to explain the matter of facts and emotions into few words, she sat close to her knacking heart and listened to it’s every suggestion. The time was tuff but even tuff she was, smiling and giggling out of her beautiful plait. She spoke of what was meant to be spoken, an adequate answer to an adequate question. 

Now having distance meant nothing but a visible knot waiting to weave a dress of life which is wore at a special occasion. She is there, gleaming her eyes on a rather questionable​ deed. In the weather of extreme temperatures, she stands lifting off every anger that ever persisted. By no means she will not ask, nor will she answer as to why she made herself the victim of nothing. Through the eyes of an another victim, she be the light holding the grace of the finest mornings of the future. 

Even getting older than yesterday wasn’t easy that she remarked that she won’t be there anytime soon and she won’t solve the puzzles anymore. Her thoughts paddling over the limitless sky won’t answer to any question that will ever be asked. She chooses to be silent in the world of chaos and forgery. 

So, I don’t believe in a predictable future, I don’t overdo the demand of prevalant today and I don’t repent for the withered past, and in the voyage of life’s search I see the lantern on the chair, graceful and free as she always was. 

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….

Way I Sound

Way I sound close and near, so calm,

Way world heard and narrated, so loud.

The show want me to say hard, and speak,

Let freedom set trends big and clear.

Not easily composed the time, it went questioning,

Again and again, those limits strained.

Limitless close to fear and dared to hate,

Life went short and high in meanings.

Not was my way nor did I say it should be,

But it flowed and never paused.

I set trends, one after the another,

It was me, all in me, all unclear.

Now I stepped into the world so new,

That millions words won’t enough be.

Straight road I murmur, it will see,

An end, a winner and a reward all clear.

Everything,Everywhere

 A known friend of mine once asked me if I knew what was the most important thing to do in life. 

I couldn’t answer his immediate query and I think no one can; in one speck of time. 

And then he just turned his back upon me saying nothing. 

I realised there was something suspicious, so I followed him. 

It wasn’t much of a night where he sat on a bench in a park where his back could fit perfectly and starting looking around the wild evening after a little often day.

As far I could see, he was just sitting and mumbling nothing in his mouth as a common stressed out individual would do. 

I had accompanied him to this location before but this time I had a little question in my mind, Why? 
The day faded black and I decided to come back home… 

I knew nothing what to be done. As of now, he might have reached his place, but what will he do even he’s back. If mind is a puzzle, Who have the solution of kind? 

Days came by, like God has given endless breath tokeep doing what we want to and to keep going where we want to. 

He was normal for days to come. Like nothing ever has ever happened, but I must say, he did changed a bit but for the better! 

I don’t know what really did happened, or what was about to happen, the story is still in no one’s hands.

 I can’t say this is the best story I can convey but I say it’s about Everything, Everywhere. And I believe that too, only if we can sense it suspicious, it is suspicious. 

I couldn’t question him, nor he would answer. No one sees him, he thought. So, let him believe this fiction.

 But let not him wait for something he’s to get in times, no one gets what they wait for. 

I, in my silence, tried answering his query. 
‘You’ are the answer.

 A little more simplified, ‘EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE’. 

Cyclewala ( The Cyclist ) – I

What’s up for me?” 

 This brings the biggest confusion in ones life. And with the onus of leading this conversation, he decided to paddle and talk throughout the corners of the city he once embraced.

It wasn’t much of a dusk when the sun seemed weighing down and all he conversed with himself was nothing. He probably found the city exploration much tempting than having a boring exchange of blames with himself. He grasped a sight of girls shimmering with emeralds on their neck, kneeling on the temples doors praying to God for everything they had, escapingly shuttering their eyes to excuse themselves for a while and expectably getting themselves showered with more love, more beauty and more happiness.  

” Go home, you! “, he grasped to himself sensing greed in the hearts of those ladies. And then he sought himself a question which made him think his sight even once. ” What’s up for me? If these Yankees have immense greed, what’s up with me? I too have greed and maybe that’s how life is. Many people would long for having a bicycle like mine’s or maybe good health. It is not bad at all! “. 

He had immense observative capability and more of it, he had the chance to interpret his observance in the course of life. Many a times he would just explore the city he thrived in, coming back home being the same man he was when he first paddled. Cycling was an exercise, not a psychological therapy, he coined. But this time he giggled as he was challenged by life to interpret her meaning. 

“Many a times we wander searching for things that don’t exist. We paddle because we want to reach somewhere. That somewhere is sometimes nowhere. But that is not a problem. The problem is when a dive into nothing, feel depressed and in the quest of accumulating nothingness, we lose everything we had. The trust is broken, the chain is broken and the lust of reaching somewhere breaks just as the bicycle goes straight into a gutter. In the course of finding a new life and openly declaring war with ourselves, we lead to dead end…”, an excessively loud horn intrupped his paddling and he banked to the favourable side of the road. 

” Phew, that was close!”, he had the glance of a large 18-tier truck chasing the bicycle’s carrier as he was riding right in the middle of road. 

The wobble in his mind was teasinlgy uncommon to him. He never much cared if he was to lose something or to hope for better, or to feel disgraced or expect from nothing he seemed to have. He was far away from his time for people of his age were on their early professions. He was but searching for something else..

To be continued…

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!