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!

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 ) – 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…

The Summer of ’16

First of all, I would like you to acknowledge that this post is pure random and you may come across some serious mood fluctuations because this is how the post is meant to be.

The summer of ’16 is a dream come true. Actually, a nightmare.

I won’t hesitate committing to that fact because as Earnest Hemingway once coined,” The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.”
I found exponential increase in the reasons in agreeing with the second part.

The days are not worth looking out for.

The sun is up high, soaring 104 in the afternoons. That’s equally comparing yourself with corns dancing in a microwave.
But still, I must confess, I don’t necessarily complain but just remarking and really remarking to highlight the situation.
Transparent.

The nights are erratic.
Terrace is full of air.
Like a train is coming from the tunnel in an underground subway.
It’s admant to take me somewhere to a better place.

The personal prioties are higher than ever before.
Just because the knots are so loosely done with the world that I can only decisively choose myself.
It’s not a declaration again.
Extensively glorified expression it is.
To let your eyes explore more words for not much crucial information.

Tomorrow, I believe is better.
Better than today.
Because with something newer comes belief.
And following a belief is good.
As good as living, I believe…