Dogs and Fog!

 While the dogs bark immensely to sort out their matters in the park in front of my window, I feel good for the feeling that I can’t understand these dogs. I can simply listen their bark while my rational senses can take rest.  I can shift my attention to the translucency of the fog. It is just the inception of the December 2016 and this intensity of fog deserves some enquiry. Let the scientists worry for climate change! I am unqualified of worrying about the humanity as I don’t understand its wisdom. All I know is I feel enormous satisfaction that for this moment I am not the reason of the world outside my window.  This view and split with reasoning is bliss of sorts. In this stillness, there is a freedom I don’t owe to anyone. I choose to be not useful with my thoughts; I choose to be not responsible with my existence, I choose to be still and feel as simply as I can.

P.S: What is so right with winters? I don’t know and I won’t try either because dogs just taught me that brain is an exaggerated material. 

Rain Between Me and the World!

Monsoon of 2016 is all set to arrive; I love the initial showers. Life is moving on with its changed tone and pace. I feel new, having realized the freedom from negativity and dense personalities in my life. Perhaps I never enjoyed people who were too afraid to show their good face or bad face or true face to the world, who were defensive and could choose selfishness over self-destruction. One thing I have learnt from nature- trees, sky, winds, rain and our very own rivers and seas- it is better to destroy then to manipulate and hide for survival, at times destruction is nurturing, it’s a new beginning. Holding on without a direction is a cheating to the way and the very spirit of the journey. That sound of the rain is my jacket of winters, my slippers at the ghats of Varanasi, these rains are my pen and dairy my very playlist of music, it is my cup of tea and tears. It is my ray of hope when I destroy; it is the thread which binds my life. It keeps me one, keeps me simple, it keeps me going!

Having said all this, I understand that humans have their own characteristics, their own symbols and styles. We live in our philosophical hallucinations with our ideological triumphs in the shadows of our ego. We eat our defeats and success, but let’s do it individually, never make anyone else the victim of our addictions as human. Take the space like seasons take in a year. Divide your personality and still stay one and stay true to the world. There is nothing wrong in being a weed, in being ugly and terrible or beautiful and like an angel. But at-least be true.  Rain is impartial to daemons and gods. So is world, so am I! But to a farmer, a lover, an artist, a thirsty … rain is a messenger. It’s their elixir. It is so because they are not dead and rotten like gods and ghosts. They need it, they wait for it. They are not the prisoners of right and wrong but needs and emotions. I love rain because it has a power to keep world one, keep it simple and keep it going.

P.S- Yes1 Rain is not my religion but definitely my inspiration!

Lived it and Loved it !

It was raining;. He was shining, our breaths were mystically synchronized. There was no need of even talking to each other. I could feel him everywhere! In me, in rain, in the bubbles which rain drops formed in all mighty Ganges. His aura and impeccable innocence left me wondering with the winds. We were soaked in the sound and music of nature. It felt so cleansed. He started singing unaware of his charm and energy. I saw him drenched in ecstasy. Fearless, Aimless and complete what he was looking like. He was guiding our way, our feelings, trance, singing, observation and us. He took the hold of the time and shared it with me equally. His confidence was hypnotizing and his smile a magnet. It was the inception of night, rain was getting more wet! Ganges was blushing. We got ourselves under the shade and there were curtains of raindrops all around. Neither I desired a cup of tea nor my camera at that moment. I just felt I can look at him like this for rest of my life but it can’t rain forever.

 

P.S – thank you Varanasi for such a surprise!

Reading and Living Sans Destination !

These vacations of 2013 are turning out to be really special for some really beautiful moments. I used to be a pretty nice reader of novels and poetry till 2011. Obviously the best time for a disciplined student to catch up rigorous reading is summer vacations as during this time you are free of any word like ‘syllabus’ torturing the terribly realist part of your brain. So the last novel I enjoyed in summers was the god of small things by Arundhati Roy straight two years back.

For past two years life involved me in something which partially only the architects, civil engineer or some interior decorator can understand where you design, build up and decorate houses, projects, hotels, cities, parks etc. with a perfect plan and the other half can be understood by those who live away from their family and end up surviving in some natural disaster or I should say the destiny’s disaster. Anyways what I mean in this post is that I was simply separated from the passion of reading in summers.

After redesigning and completing the construction of my life to come back to basics, to my astonishment destiny started helping me with interior decoration and things started falling at place. Few weeks ago I didn’t know about the play “sans destination” and neither its awesome author Nikhil Sharda. But now I know both and knowing both is a pleasure, a lesson, a smile, motivation and some respectable tears.  

After watching the rom-com crazy stupid love I was waiting for my father who very soon came up with the book (which my sister ordered for me as my advance birthday gift) along with chocolates for me and my brother, yes he shows his love for me with chocolates, he must have enquired the book by reading it a bit.. While giving it to me he said it is written in it that one can say himself an economist if he teaches economics, a physicist if he is into physics but one usually doesn’t says himself a philosopher if he teaches philosophy. With a subtle smile he exclaimed how true! And whole heartedly Okayed the play for his daughter’s reading...

I started reading it then and there forgetting that I was about to try the new dress my mom got for me (I have still not tried it). As it is a short play I completed it within a couple of hours. A humorous trance was what I felt after reading it. Lying at my bed was just thinking about the play and the smartness and relief of being philosophically logical, adorable and admirable. Unbelievably I could construct the play in my mind like I never did to any play before be it Julius Cesar, Christmas carol when I was 16 or the little mimic which I read in 5^th standard! And I am sure that all the readers can easily connect to it because we all have travelled at least once in train. I could manage to live the play a bit more because my life changing journey too was New Delhi to Varanasi.  The essence of the reality is so beautifully portrayed via a train journey in this play.   

We are so sure about where we want to go, that surety is a fact not the truth. The surety of destination is what we are working upon, struggling about and are appreciated for but no that surety is not always complete. Destiny has some authority over our destinations!

Well after reading it I posted my review about the book

“Journey is a great metaphor of life! Sans destination confirms this in the perfect stylish manner possible. Full of humor, targeted sarcasms, believable exaggerations and absolutely convincing philosophies this play is all about two things- Reality and the writer’s extraordinary capability to present it in such an entertaining manner. A play which makes the reader to accept all the characters without being judgmental as they are the part of our own life or journeys and a play which so marvelously means its title – sans destination!  “

Evening all went in being nostalgic, revaluating my life and smiling alone for some awesome humor and elements of philosophy in the play and finally I felt the same calm and peaceful feeling of reading in summer vacations!!

P.S— Now every journey will remind me about this play! you can buy it from http://pothi.com/pothi/book/nikhil-sharda-sans-destination
 

A POEM i felt like preserving!

Sohrab Sepehri: In The Meadow

The turfs of such vastness;
The mounts of such heights;
... The meadow is engulfed by the fresh scent of the grass.

In that remote parish,
I was looking for something,
Maybe a dream, perhaps a fistful of sands,
Or a lightening, a smile,
Yes, something:
A fleeting trance
at least.

Behind the willows,
There is an innocent sense
-made of oblivion and of original void-
It is constantly calling my name.

I stay besides the reeds,
And I listen;
But,
Who is talking to me?
Who is calling my name?

**&**

A lizard slipped into the river,
I leave.
Ryes on my way.
Then it comes the green sight of the farms,
And forgetfulness that stream in the air...


**&**

I stay by the waterway,
I ousted my shoes, feet in the torrent:
Oh, so green I feel at this moment!
And so fluid, so sharp all my senses are!
So aware!
**&**

Who is behind the trees?
No one, only a lonely cow!



It is the noon,
-of a warm summer day-
Even the shadows know the name of the season.
The shadows are spotless and dense.
And in my bright, tidy space,
all the children of sense
Sometimes play, sometimes rest.

**&**

Life is not empty:
There is kindness,
And there is apple
and there is faith.

Life is full,
wherever flowers dare to bloom...
It is true, so true:
Till the last tulip
Life goes on worthwhile.


And now,
Now,
There is something in my heart;
And I am so restless,
Restless like a storm:
I like to run till the end of this perish
to the summit of this mount;
to the end of the perish-
summit of the mounts!

**&**

Faraway,
There is a Voice.
The Voice
is constantly calling my name.

A DULL AFTERNOON!

It’s a mid may afternoon. Like an inaudible anger it is sweeping this date. It’s like a tired dreading labor looking for his lover and her comforting touch but is sustaining his work with half dead will. Forgetting the enthusiasm of the morning this afternoon is sure that no history can be created today.

Sun is having a lot to deliver yet. Wind is hot enough to shut the windows and put the curtains on. Music is doing much little today then expectations.

Twinges of nostalgia in between are working as bit of escape. There used to be a time when heart had such springs in blood that no summer noon was a disturbance. That springtide was eternal but time went lot back in past.

Seems like nothing can be started and accomplished this noon. If sleeping is not an option available then just wait for the evening like I am doing.

A moment and a pond!

I sit silently by the side of a pond and look at the serenity of water. I have some issues with human voice! The way it twists the music of nature is unpleasant!

So! All those moments when I pick silence in a soothing splendor of Mother Nature! I feel an eternal reflection which settles in me forever!