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.


Everyone Loves A Gift

Talking of favourites, it differs as does the choice perpetuating out of tributaries of human thoughts. No matter what, everyone loves a gift. Yes, but does it matter?

I recall an event from the prologue of my past. It was asking for a gift of an angular pen which gets its name and point of attraction from slightly titled nib of its on the occasion of my birthday. Eventually I received the same with same surprised expression if otherwise if it would have been unknown to me. I could see my eyes glittering with happiness on the mirror adjacent to me as I held this pen closer to my heart.

Next day, I couldn’t find the pen anywhere. Nor was in the group of gifts that I’d got nor was it in the “special box” where I used to store the most precious and beautiful commodities of mine safely!

It was visceral reminder of the fact that I may also lose things even the most delighted ones to some mysterious turn of events. Anyways, pens are so that would’ve been proven worthier if I could I shown off to my friends or I would’ve received full marks out of the test!

This story is vague in the sense of providing a moral, I accept that. But to the readers, I may put a gentle reminder of accepting what’s available right now. I would’ve cried to the verge of making my parents buy me a pack of similar pens. But that wasn’t about it.

Everyone loves a gift. Only the fortunate receive what they desired for. All that matters if you make use of the gift in whatever sense you use it for. You have the freedom to attach the “gift” of today’s story with life as well!

An Evening Tryst With a Stranger

I had promised this disguised soul I won’t forget that discussion last evening. I’m here to get unapproved of me being a forgetful person, again!

I won’t much dive into the details into what made me talk to a stranger in a country where people are already in abundance but no one actually to share to, I will not be interpreting the event in any way possible. I would term that “person” as “she” for now.

So, last evening it was sun bidding adieu as it usually does, and it was certainly a time for recreation. For a deep sleeper like me, Internet is always an eye opener. So, Internet! There’s a website that offers login without identifying yourself and you could share with strangers around the world without getting known. Cool! So, my laptop was assigned to get this job done.

She was the first one to begin with a casual Hi! I replied with an ignorant Heya, while sliding my thumb along the social media on my phone on the other hand. To my utter surprise, she asked, ” Have you ever been in true love?” I decided to put an end to this convo. But something stopped me. It was to no obligation that I’ve to reply to that. But I did, in positive annotation.

I would easily make out that she was so keen to know with her number of question marks on several following questions. I answered them as adequately and carefully as possible. A evening feast of replies, better given than taken! At one or the other take she could easily make out that I was lying. Lying she declared was unnecessary. Her “maybes” and “maybe nots” were enough to make me realise she won’t open herself but make me spit my words out as easily as I was already spitting.

When asked about her age, she replied, “Anybody between 10 years and 80 years, you can put me wherever you want to be.” Pretty unconventional, for me at least! Her purpose to inquire me was uncertain and all I could I understand was she wanted to solve some problem of her and that she wanted to know what “boys of my age feel about the most divine thing in the whole world, love”.

Out of her dominance in the conversation she instructed me to love unconditionally and accusing me of pondering more than I should. A message has been delivered and took a note of it.

She had bet I won’t forget this conversation but I admit I got a dreamy sleep afterwards. It’s a waste of time. But lesson learnt. What I had I actually got to do, anyway?

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

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 times.¬†If 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!

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! 

Little Unfair

Long long time ago, in the winning world, a dreamer stepped out of the pond filled with happiness spilling the lores on the floor just like that. He had one thing to come out of, and to make the people believe that ‘it’ really exists! 

Smilingly‚Äč he kept on going, the ashes made his feet burn, the sun kept tearing his head down and his heart sinking in the dust. Still he went on, to fill the list of his own; to find another happiness in town. His model of action had no failure, unknowingly he remained stiff against the world. Not doing out of someone’s saying or someone’s order but to fulfil his own self and to never question why did he actually stepped out…
One may say he’s the man, he may find something one day. One may say he’s hard man to get, he’s out of reach.
One may even affront to his mediocrity. 

At least one should have stood in the front on his, asking what’s he upto? One must have been surprised to realise what makes such a commitment go further than life, isn’t it? 

Lots of words in play, and his journey now stands still on the pavement of a known. He doesn’t hesitates to relate affinity in souls. He doesn’t fail to openly confess. Now what he begs on to know the other side of the story, to know what stands behind the door; what makes up curiosity take the breath out. It seems like it may set him free if he realizes. Chemically, the other world shall be answering. 

In the darker walks of life, when he shouts for where he came from, what journey he is on, and now where he paused to. Of the people who play, the lives of themselves as well as the others, what shall put an end to these everlasting strong moron beings? They have adequately learnt to adapt to the situation. 

He leaves a mark on the dying sun in an unfairer dusk playing games to end towards an everlasting tunnel of darkness. It shall be suffocating it seems, he thinks but no wonder if anyone won’t ever ask where did he went. 

What was his story

Seems a little unfair!