The Breakdown of the Presence

On the very first day of this year, I saw myself losing to spilling milk on the shelf by the virtue of excessive ignition on the stove. I went ignorant for a second to witness the new blueness of the year on the sky. I was wrong. I should have been careful…
As the world have shifted places, numerous words being put into our head, with newer views bracing our eyes and all those days and months we have spent in exploring the unexplored, I seem to believe more in maturity that is skipping out sight every awhile. With crook words and unforgivable incidents shaping our today’s self, I’m getting paranoid as to where are we heading to, and before I sleep, I want to make sure, as I write, that I get to what I wanted to, not what the world wishes me to or where they find me mingling up with them. Basically, in easy description, it could be like ‘ Finding out the real you’. I find that really cliche to write..
So, breaking soon the presence is what put to strike everyone’s right chord. It’s like correcting the basic grammar of the lyrics of life. It could be baseless, of course, pointing the poetry at it’s authenticity to prove what’s it trying to depict. See, no one likes playing goofs with time. It asks for clarity, but I’m sorry I can’t be clear enough.
I am the present you see, and I’m struck at nothing. I see a wide horizon through the window of my room shaping up my today. Even, a blatant kick at my back does the same job with greater efficiency. I walk through the roads that ferries me to my place daily. My car gets the job done for me with a push of my feet, even faster. I often ask people of my adequacy with them. The answer approximately comes positive. Few discussions with my notebook bring me same reply and even with more “true that” factor.
The memories that I have with me today is worthless if it doesn’t corrects me to what I do to fix my today. I fail my purpose if I don’t suggest my surrounding to be better. Silence could be fatal if I choose it to be my guest at all timesIf such words of mine are out in public, it shall be an outage as to what it really means. It shall be failure again if it fails to be understood. All in all, its a failed situation I’m into. Standing on the tip of the mountain I see and feel nothing but my breath getting high as there’s no one around. By the way it’s not the mountain I was supposed to be on. The Stars, they say, don’t light up the nights here!
I witness too much of “I’ness”, that’s once lost. Hesitance in acceptance of the truth of missing. That’s fine with me if I don’t skip a beat to the miraculous that’s bound to happen. Failure doesn’t surprises me anymore. I accumulate lots of winning attires on my body as just another thing shaping me my today. Fancy, it’s just another night and blow of emotion pushing me to admit what’s easy on life. Pity if it’s place in seclusion wherein I pledge to confuse life with a fairy tale; the sun doesn’t teach us the lesson of being consistent or we have finally found the concrete reason of as to who made this world and for what purpose!
Here it goes, a random talk on life!

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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.

Cyclewala (The Cyclist)- III

Dear Diary, 

Life is lonely here. Even if you will stay, the tides will rub you off. It’s like a gypsy soul is better these days. Nothing to care about, nothing to veil and nothing to look back. I broke every way I once made, never did I tried to cycle back there, but they still. They are cruel, harsh, amateur, and path bitten. Just when the phone rings, they jump and rush towards that shrill metallic sound of the call unknowing whose that is, what could it mean? After awhile, all they hear is a prank call. What is such kind of life, my dear. 

I knew nothing before I was born and taking birth am I, daily. I know nothing what’s going to happen tomorrow. Nobody tells me. I can’t interpret the language of the world. I am all in myself and that just breaks me apart. For how long can I separate the fine lines of emotions with them, their’s an indefinite soul, not mine. Not mine is the chance, this world has to got take and breath free, for I did, and now I suffer. Far beyond when I was cycling in the crawling people, they stared at me, kept their belief on me and lent me water when I had paddled enough. All they wanted was me reaching my milestone. And see, now they ride with me thinking they ride fast! Smiling, innocent faces emerging out of doors which they once feared… 

With this I feel open to tell you the definition of everything. Now, please listen to me; as I say you will believe me. “See, when you start from a zero paddle, and you reach a thousandth one, you realise that what you are doing is correct. A time when you reach at a point when you realise that it’s the time to return back home, you think you have done a little something. Now, you are coming back. You have to come back. Its half way home and a sudden blink of eye makes you realise what’s there back at home. Nothing. It’s the same point where I started. The displacement shall be zero. Nobody will get a slightest idea that I have accomplished something. Is it that important to publicize? No, but what’s the vacuum I’m feeling inside. I’m not tired at all. My bicycle is fit and fine but my mission is accomplished. I have lived my dream. People would prefer getting propelled by engines, showing off and feeling extremely comfortable. But I did nothing of sort. I ride because that’s the way it is. They will have to suffer someway later. But I know they won’t. They will die before they even suffer. Enough with the people, enough with me; what’s all this for? WHY DID I RODE? WHAT WAS CRUCIAL TO BE ACCOMPLISHED? WILL IT BE REMEMBERABLE IN COMING TIMES? Of course, not! I think it’s easy to be an artist and equally easy to be for a long time. By long time, it could be a second, a day, month, year or whole lifetime. I know nothing. Nothing at all.” Everything has an answer. This probably is the question for the answer I am looking out for. Think, my dear, if everything would have been so correct, why would anyone strive for better? “Everything is you. You are everything.”, My life answered me, my dear and I know you agree with me. 

This am I telling you because I feel you very close to me. I fear people, but I dare them to stand even anywhere close to me. They miss the guts! But how’s it provable? Is there a need? There is a dense forest of memories and past, the result of which I talk with you and feel open to converse like that. All I know that I haven’t reach back home yet, I’m still in a tussle. And when I reach, I know I’ll have a reason to think big and do big. But my dear, when will I come back home? And what if I don’t start? What if I fail to buck up? What if I don’t be consistent enough? I guess, there shall be answers then, if the time now has some answers. The answer is to be come back home and complete the pending journey. So, paddle hard, and come back home. Someone’s waiting for you. Someone wants you to reach what you dream back again and again for dreams pending to be dreamt. Atleast. 

Far way when the world seemed dying, there was hope. They say,” Losing all hope is freedom.” I say, I don’t need freedom. 

See ya next time!

To be continued

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…

She Came. She Saw. She Conquered.

 

She was in a tussle what to choose and what to loose. With loosened heart and frightening breath, she started walking towards the brightly lit stage. Her hair a bit curly, and lessened moisture on her lips, she glared the pavilion around her, blushed with humans all similar to her, all sheltered with a grey sky.

She skipped her hand on the microphone, binning away the lust of time and discovering the reason of being her. All her efforts have to answer now, with the the whole world leaving her not even a chunk of choice. She administered her soul and with misty voice she spoke,” Hello!”.

 

This she heard never from herself. She knew, the world welcome salutations. Now, she have to reply to herself, her modesty trembling again. ” I speak of nothing but truth, and forever shall the truth bestow the lives of everybody and now after being speech impaired for the whole of my life, I can admit… If I can have a voice, you can too! Give your voice a reason. The world listens to those who are strong enough to prove their point. Many gets a voice with destiny; give your destiny a return gift!”

 

She could hear the applause. This wasn’t for the voice she had, but the struggle and the aim she had for herself carefully crafted in her story. Her story, her little world of being the impossible and letting the world believe that wonders happen every time, this time again.

 

She, Ms. Anjana Noor, Creative Head at Gandhi Institute for Deaf and Dumb, who was speech impaired for 22 years of her life unknown to the fact that she could one day speak, ‘voiced’ her story at a gathering in New Delhi, India.

 

 

 

Being Foolish

For all people searching the meaning of life…

Who do we say is foolish?

 

I see the foolishness all around.

That’s my foolishness for bearing all the foolishness that this world have.

Now, I be the foolish; to not label myself foolish or my family members or my peers .

My belief that I rub everything above and never let the world know what really a foolish is; is foolish.

Or my posture or my behavior or my intention or only myself being just,foolish.

 

At any point of time, some sort of alien intelligence is surely due to over ride your abilities. Before a strong competitor, you surely going to lose. And at the end, nothing is going to matter.

What’s this ‘alien intelligence’, who’s this ‘strong competitor’ and what’s exactly the’ end’?

The answer no one knows the answer to, the lust that no one can ever fulfill and the future that any other distinction cannot hold, is the answer. We are hesitant to recognize, realize and prove, failing to acknowledge, but curious to know. We hold our hands together, trace our faces, and walk by our sides, but still…

 

Still we find our destinations and still we prefer going back. We label ourselves travelers, who finds his destinations and is equally determined to get back where he started, maybe to just let the world know, where he started. And where he started is where the world can start. Not just follow the footsteps but just prefer finding a little new way, a sweet other fruit to taste.

 

Label me foolish for letting you stroll where no one else does.

 

James Clear says,” Motivation is overvalued. Environment often matters more.”

I believe he’s right. Sorry for being foolish, believing in what others has to say. Or not others but somebody. Or somebody with something special.

 

Foolish is being identified. Being known.Being yourself.

The answer that I somehow, came to know.

And felt to foolish to spread…

 

There’s All Spams Existing that Exists

And such is a phenomenon. When it rains in dire summers, it’s acid rain that rains.

 

Listening to my favorite artist shuffled anomalously while on the go may probably be the best thing that happens with me most of the time. Because there I feel a little fortunate, a little alive and a little connected with The Almighty in the means of transferring ideas and demands and getting them fulfilled within a specific time repetition.

 

And so with this happiness, the wheel of life keeps rolling…

 

Here, this time its not really about Being Fortunate or Being Alive or Being Connected.

Its about Life which features nothing like this.

 

I am about to introduce a concept named ‘Certain‘. Feel free to relate it to yourself at times. It all begins at severe verbal with oneself. An introspection. Its controversial at times being being possessive but Hello! This is how this happens!

 

  • Certain crisp voices are feeling free to get scripted over this space.
  • Certain factors are irresistibly powerful to just let go.
  • Certain events have led us here.
  • Certain memories, beliefs have inspired to be like this.
  • Certain emotional inferences ,probably, are more practical than the world itself.
  • Certainly you have nothing better other than being here.

 

Certainly you are in a Trap, because that Certain is nothing more than a spam, unto a percentage of a guess. You are just a Certain.

 

And everywhere there are spams existing all around. The race is to stand as a leader of all.

Certainly, its not a demotivation at all, I must confess, but atleast its an introspection.

Because its just a beginning…

 

P.S : I am glad that people from various communities and I don’t know from which particular sites are viewing or commenting on this blog with all the positive or negative reviews. But it is requested please DO NOT comment as a spam on this blog. Akismet will automatically designate it as spam and due to security reasons, I cannot approve those comments on this blog until and unless these are not from a secure or trusted or atleast specified source.