Sunday, 23 February 2014

I'm A Confused Little Lamb

As babies, we're fresh entrants into this crazy anarchic world. Our skins are soft and supple, and we don't have the faintest clue what we're getting into. We step into this life blind, and the first human contact we are greeted with is a smack to the rear. The first thing we do, the first exercise of our vocal cords is a loud high-pitched wail. Babies are confused, scared and stranded among strangers that they're meeting for the very first time.
As days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, it isn't long before a child's first day in kindergarten turns into a college graduation day. Graduation day turns into his wedding day, and his wedding day turns into the day his first baby is born. The cycle goes on, refusing to change, like one of those sitcoms that keep doing the same stuff over and over again. An endless loop, with its repetitive scheme being its biggest USP.
When, then, do all those drastic life-changes occur? When do our skins turn into hides that deflect all undesirable sensations? When do our vocal cords learn to articulate words that bear meaning, and sometimes don't? When does that feeling of living alone even in a full house cease?
And most importantly, when and how do we stop ourselves from being pulled into this inescapable loop and becoming just another face in the sea of humans that come and go like floating forgettable leaves on an autumn evening?

Are these the sort of questions that are answered by our ancient texts?
I think I need to do some serious reading.
Until then, I suppose this mind is too cluttered for clarity.

Monday, 10 February 2014

Of Friendship And Missing

We didn't think
These curves, and these lanes
Would lead us into a swamp-land
Of marshy doubts and decisions,
Of solitude and ambition,
Of strength and defeat...
We thought they would be
Cushions we rested our heads on,
Commanded the world
From the grounds of
The lowest lows,
The poorest kingdoms,
The hungriest tigers...
Like free flames
Of a deep blue fire,
Stronger than the hands of time
And freer than a lion's mane--
We traveled the world
In our broken chariot,
Not knowing that it was broken..
Our laughter was our glue
And our secrets were our treasure--
Intangible but like a visceral plea
Asking for nothing in return
But company...

Sunday, 2 February 2014

Begin The Begin

Like a pungent aroma
That becomes the master
Of your senses,
Enveloping you like an obsession
That doesn't relieve you
Without sacrifice--
Ambition gets the better of me,
As I devour, one by one,
Each dream that dares enter
My angry eyes..
So what if it's just a dream?
That is how the game