A Beauty on the Side walk

Innocent but yet wild in answers. All the world is yet to praise this little soul hiding her spectacle onto her left. This as it seems isn’t a dream and isn’t yet to hold praise of holding one. All of the darkness have already faded which in the unexpected manaouvers have taken turns to inspire! 

Let’s begin! 

In the world of charms, outside my heart, I still don’t feel the breath seizing out the need of me. Every other day becomes a question with changing meanings. Who does pays heed to needless motivations, after all? In today’s mean world, who wants to remember the information that hurts? 

My adventure with the beauty begins at home. I aspire to inspire my wants to walk up. When the ultimate magic happens, I retreat to good technology that hurts my eyes and ultimately my brain cells. And the war goes on until I push the bed with my back with no more stuttering fingers. What I mean ‘beauty’ here is the usual life; a forgetful life. 

The burning light over the other end of shore plunders every hope of survival unless it doesn’t respond. So, practically it keeps a watch on us but it just keeps on staring. That light is what we need to have an answer to. This calls to find a meaning of another beauty. 

As I reiterate, ” Innocent it is, yet wild in answers”. I see her yawning towards my side in bewilderness, towing her legs a little more titled and face looking for an hideout from the outside world. And I sit calm reading the story with own lenses. Unsaid is the glimpse of the another time ahead, but I hear our words in perfect sync. I don’t answer and she forgets to question that’s what keeps the distance going. While I fail to admit what her guardians are upto? Or what if it’s just a blunder? Am I just playing foul? 

Let’s take the shot. I have no one else to share this word. I knew down and put a constant stare. She suddenly puts her wide eyes shut. It calm as only I hear her hair crawling down in the air for freedom. 

And then, I just stop. And do what I need to do. No bad intentions at all! 

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!

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….

Maybe, The End of Everything?

Suppose, we finish. 

We let our eyes go easy into darkness, like we just don’t care anymore. 

We think nothing, do nothing and expect nothing. 
Maybe, that’s what life has offered us or maybe it’s the outcome of what we invested in life. Maybe. 

Beginnings are auspicious, life breezes from the air coming out of gifted blower. We stand and keep on breathing the infinite loop of happiness. Being silent and calm, because we don’t need anything, anymore is the ultimate solution to everything. Try finding out and you won’t get anything. Don’t try and think of trying. Try and done. Boo….

Maybe, we don’t hear things, we don’t speak and we don’t appear as a human. As if all calls are answered because their ring for your number doesn’t work. It’s melodious to hear their voice, but they will give on the toll of your humility. Heart seeks out the heights of stupidity, the days of failure has come. What would you do? Maybe… Something! 

You laugh like you just don’t care. You keep on moving even it’s the storm, your feet are slipping and you have a real aim. 
You are wrong, you shouldn’t keep worrying about the future. Every essence of the present must be felt. Even if the world is gone, the earth is your place no more, you must breath. Wonder, if anyone can fill his lungs in space… 

The voices are annoying but you are happy you are able to tell the story. Maybe, this be something? Many of these humans paved a way through this. This real hit be the greatest hit in the heart you would get? You begin composing the bleeding heart? 

You will tell but no one will listen. That’s what we have to care. That’s what they need to hear. That’s what they want from us. This be the reflection of what we are….

So, yea it’s okay! Everything’s fine. It’s normal. 

Maybe? You sure? 

Well, sure, you are not. Boo…..

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)- V

“There’s a river that keeps on flowing. There’s a sun that keeps on staring and there’s a life that keeps on going.” 


The Cyclist kept on cycling his life for days to come. Shutting himself away from the world, and dancing on the flute of his own. The world seemed a mere unknown journey because he was much fortunate that destiny had become his ultimate teacher. He had all he needed for a story to run successful; the character, a reliable mate, a conflict and a solution. He never realised what else he wanted. Never but his mind throttled to recognise the unknown, together as a whole world was yet unknown. He was paddling his own, scenting his own and targeting his own. 

But was this feasible? What if it make him secluded? What if it concludes him a disguised? 

When everything seems successful, someone has to take steps to cut off the leisure. The train has come, but someone has to choose and step up. The winds from the windows has to be answered. The course of life has to continue. 

He knew that well. He kept staring the same shine that reflected back from the bell on his bicycle from the crisp clear sun. It smelled just the right when he looked around and sensed a fresh marigold garden towards his left. He could imagine his life at the zenith of beauty and perfection. 

The moment gets old the next moment we look back, and the newer gets older too when touched and felt. He warned his eyes to be careful for they had seen enough of disgrace and misfortune that the other side of the story maybe different and he has to calm down to the psalm of life could turn ugly one day. He never heard the words he taught to the people, his expression of his body seemed indispensible. To the other lives who glared in darkness, his thirst was never quenched neither with darkness or with enlightenment. But his dare to choose what no one else does brought him satisfaction. 

Where I am suppose to go now, he thought. Theirs nothing bad in shying away from opportunities but what’s next? What if I keep on silent for long that this world forgets if I ever exist? What if I fail to match my face with those of my need? 

Days and months went by and he now kept on staring the darkest corner of the darkest room of his house. He tried wondering the real sense of world existent in silent life. Where no one sets to call you, none bothers to disturb and those silent hours be numb for times to come. Passing the time when time is no brother of space, he watched the warm sun shifting place, from days to nights, morning to evenings, months and the next big quarrel. 

He remember everything he once was, once in his own flute and everything seemed a quibble. Those no rhythm mornings, and cracky evenings and nights with no sweet dreams, he wondered if he once lived a life or a question. The answer which no one has to answer because the question is incorrect. He was never supposed to answer that question, we all don’t have to. But what was actually a question that had to be found, then had to be answered perfectly? Was he an eligible candidate? What if he isn’t, then who actually are? What if he shy away from this change? What if he doesn’t bothers? 

Life is always desparate to answer itself, the method of it seems unfair to those who regret change. Better regret yourself if you! But realising this question, left him dumbstruck. He eyes were no more pleasing to the beauties because he was now a commoner trying find the meaning of life, the unsung song written on the pages of destiny by the almighty. Instead, he shelled the deeper out of himself and wondered if others do? 

Life has no answer, he thought, but why is that a question then? Its illogical to get into the queue where there’s no one. It’s impossible to perpetuate emotions through invisibility. But if illogical is what makes an illogical question answer the real question, why not make logic a no sense illogical question? 

The drama has no end. He still keep waiting staring the darkest corner of the darkest room. And he waited until… 

I’m the answer, he thought. I don’t know where I came from, where I have to go and that doesn’t mean that I’m illogical. And neither is life. For it is a justified question put to me, to be answered by me. The bounds and adversities of life has no end, and that doesn’t means that that I’ve to keep me silent amd let the morons take the charge. Yes, this world has answered me bad, atleast I learnt what’s good. Towards the better end if I lead, let’s celebrate the fun at its best! And till it ends, make sure you breath and then leave ASAP! 

What was his Cyclist journey was now the journey of his life. He didn’t wanted to come back but he had to. A new journey has to begin when one ends….

  • THE END