ASIGNATURA

When did the birds ever stop singing? When did the ruins of what we call past ever bury themselves inside time? Its only because we cared less that we did not take note. Its only and always a vague conjecture we follow until we crash. That again gives way to another self-proclaimed conviction and another and another. And each time, we are destined to crash, simply for the reason that there is an end to every illusion. A finger is always pointing the other way. And that is when you stop and ask yourself,"Is this the right direction?" .

Songs are like feelings. They have an end. Good ones are remembered. Bad ones ought to be forgotten. And life in all its magnitude is nothing devoid of feelings. A staunch glare at your own life will reveal its custom kaleidoscope of highs and lows and conscious planar feelings. When a person is aware that he or she is not feeling anything, that is a feeling in itself. This is analogous to the sweetest song of all - silence. And I believe we will keep crashing and resurrecting ourselves till we find our feeling of silence.

That is when we begin taking note of the world beyond our skin and then the world beneath our skin gets clearer for even the blind to see purity.The birds never stopped chirping. The old fan still makes that creaking sound. The world is still spinning west to east. The sun is never late to work. The universe is still busy in its unproven conspiracies. The silence is still worth hearing.

ASIGNATURA

Be Leave

Leave me alone, even if there be options.
Leave me alone with myself taken away.
Now that I am bleeding someone else’s blood
Leave me alone with the dark dusk’s dismay.

Leave me my mind, at peace I doubt
But leave me my thoughts anyway.
I am burning within with all I was burning without
And leave me burning, I pray.

Leave me a note, a picture , a song,
And leave all you thought I would say.
Leave without a look of your face, friend
For I will see the guilt, helpless I will stay.

Leave me a moment where you can forget my name,
And recall everything that’s not today.
Leave the anger ,you gained from mine,
Leave the words that you want to say.

Leave the roads to the memories open,
For I need to come back after I have lost my way.
Leave a work of your patience acclaimed,
Leave me forgotten, like the flooded cay.

Leave me some pain, towards the end of march
Two days away, today.
Leave me nothing, if nothing is an answer,
Leave me not if I ask you to stay.

Be Leave

Our Tree

Freedom, fighters will fight.
Not that they hate or love
The fact that I do.
Just that they see things from above.
All I know.

And this day, we said will be ours’.
Those were the hours of dawn,
A day passed, hit us all.
You never guessed this would come on.
The all you know.

Prisoners, free as they wanted
You are as free as you want.
You, prisoner of all,
Know the freedom you haunt.
So, you’ll know.

Fire seeds, bore out of my tree
As I watched it get burnt.
And beyond it's shade, I found light.
More to night, than the shade I learnt.
Sunlight show.



Our focus dictates what we see, which reinforces our focus, further confining the possibility of what we will see.

Our Tree

thodeeperughts : Deeper in Thoughts

Row ahead the prison guards,
Row the river undead,
Row but fear the waterfall,
You will want the guards instead.

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Fall but cheer the rising stars,
Fall will hurt you albeit.
Fall all shall, a day awaits.
Fear that day, well lit.

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When the blind and unjust get the query posed,
it makes no difference if the court is closed!!!

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वक़्त ही है हमारे पास
हमेशा , कभी ज्यादा , कभी कम |
राख से उभरती रहती है उम्मीद ,
वो आँखें , कभी बंद कभी नम |

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Whose fault is it? The man is blind.
Some were born, for others society was kind.
Do we deserve thoughts in an open mind?
Some say yes, for others society was kind.

thodeeperughts : Deeper in Thoughts

The Riddle Since Always

It is funny how the slightest molecule of a word or action can temporarily crucify your brains and hence leave you unattended for hours, for there was no warning, there was no reason, there is no other cure but time. So, the solution when one falls into such a black-hole of untraced feelings is nothing but the wait!! The hope that the feeling will cure itself, will fade into the background, will not retrace itself back, will just be another joke for the future.And while one is at it, he/she may as well try and find another solution.

The riddle I find troubling is that feeling, that utter sense of indifference, that silent smile-killer, which does not emanate from any other person, or any parent feeling but from the being experiencing it itself. It is not a result of copious happiness, but a result of dubious self-realisation.

The feeling shows lack of certain virtues elegantly hidden within the shroud of confidence. It arises from crisis between the wants and needs of the self. A war of untold words between the tamed mind and the starving conscience, which that action sparked relentlessly. And there is nothing more consuming for a person than the strife of the intellect.

The riddle remains unsolved, unless every hairline of a fault in the sequence of beliefs that hold the person together is incinerated. The riddle remains dormant till every micron of improvement has been appreciated and implemented. The riddle rests with every self-aware individual but the perfect. I, for one, am not.

A riddle is only as long as an answer isn’t. Firstly, is something a riddle at all?!If yes, then the riddle was placed with intentions-known and ignorant. The causality falls to mere communication – mischievous or inexpressive. Even more probable is the case when the creator is not demanding clarity. May be it has been used to unclear images. In this case, there is reason to rescue the creator. For there is no affinity towards completion, unlike character. And completion is not a solo-performance, too absurd if at all.

Riddles are not and cannot be a boon to growth. They are like a drop of sweat that appear owing to the ambience, but must vanish for its own purpose. They must be succeeded by a solution. An apt solution. And for that, we might as well need the apt question - untainted by indifference, sparked by inquisitiveness, immaterialised by understanding.

Riddles can be a test of understanding, too. A tool which does not aspire for an answer, but for a junction. A common end to the logical progression of the creator and the puzzled. It seeks the bliss that follows an unfailing journey through insatiable hunger for misunderstandings. And at that crossroad of life, I see completion. Just the feeling. As is the riddle, on how the dove felt when it first flew, how the full moon felt when it lit a cloudless night, how the cloud felt when it rained all it ever had. Not words, not answers, not descriptions. Father Flynn puts it with my strongest agreement, “Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty”.



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The Riddle Since Always

The Wolverine, The Bubble

Soft, soundless, rise.
Not nowhere you won’t reach.
You have your world being touched.
Soft, soundless Bubble, do more teach.

You have your impressions, your presence.
Subtly you are in here, within.
Soundlessly you are rising, visibly.
The rise, I wish, you had seen.

You’ll be there, at the surface, soon.
You’ll be a speck of a greater whole.
And you’ll have burst yourself beyond promise,
With the water you lived through still cold.

The moon, like hope, fades. Into the fortnight.
And hope, like the moon, is reborn.
Forest canine o’ mine, it has lived above light.
It will survive, when even the moon be torn.

The night tonight is darker, or not.
Not that it matters, not that it cares.
It breathes on the hill’s windward side.
The bubble’s air, even when light is spare.

Never less, all the more, never less.
Never blessed, but it breathes.
Never gone, for what would he leave.
Everywhere there is, there's moonlight that sheathes.

The Wolverine, The Bubble

A cat named Nebula

Who is Nebula?
Nebula is not my pet inter-stellar dust whom I feed twice a day. Nebula is a cat. I named it so. Pity , it didn’t have say in what I called him. Nomenclature is always unfair. Totally. And, since the talk has transcended to totality, we must not ignore the futility of nomenclature in all its attempts of simplifying things. That is so, because there are so many things that can be named (most of them have been) and people do not remember all the names. So, they settle for a less apt substitute, if at all. What good?

Take Nebula for instance. It has been named so, because of all names running in my mind then, Nebula sounded super awesome. No reason. Intuition, may be some. The cat rests in our veranda . The house is south facing, an unparalleled luxury in winter for people in the Northern hemisphere. There is ample sunlight. The cat enjoys a share. We enjoy a share. We observe receding discomfort with each other as the countdown to spring is on the roll. After a week, the cat presumes being our pet when most permanent members of the house have not given it a thought yet.

To increase misunderstandings, the infamous and dubious INDIA TV infiltrated the minds of my parents. Their samvaddaata from some town: “Sai Baba entered a home in the form of a dog, the inmates domesticated it and a lady with back pain was cured“. Feeding a cat is much easier than a dog, and the cat won’t freak you out by barking either. So, feeding him once or twice was worth a go. How ,the hell, will the cat ever know the reason behind this heavenly behavior.

As always is the case with actions sans conviction, the enthusiasm plunged towards nullity. The cat began to outstay its welcome, it still is. It is usually kicked out of the house (veranda is shared though ... no issues there), and only fed when we repent the hospitality. Poor creature, will take a lot for him to understand the complexities associated with unsure love. But, it will handle it. It has the strength to carry on. Animals are far better off in that case. They do not have to think as they do not have to repent.

Nebula is a cat in a 100 square yard area of a colony, in a large town of India. Nebula is Nebula only for me. But Nebula is as nature made him. Unperturbed, unmodified, pure. There is serenity in its calls for love (that meow thing), there is austerity in its playfulness, there is a thought hidden in its blinding warm fur. It has wants,expectations but nothing to repent.

Nebula is a fragment of life. A lesson taught in the strangest of methods. A stone that must be put in the road for the journey. Nebula is an encounter with greatness latent within minuteness. Nebula if you ignore the nomenclature is for everyone. Nebula is not a cat only. It is your friend from the second street. It is that building that stood unnoticed for years. It is that dog, INDIA TV portrayed.

Nebula is not my pet cat, but we all kick it out of our homes.

A cat named Nebula