Suicide Note…

Last night I wrote a suicide note

Pondering upon the times new and old

Running away from the truth untold

Breaking down the mind so cold,

So cold was the night I wrote,

The suicide note.

 

Last night I wrote a suicide note 

Looking out for a spark of hope

Doing away with the soundless soul

Tripping about the route less road

Route less road out in the night so cold

When I wrote a suicide note.

 

Last night I wrote a suicide note

Casting away the palace of gold,

Burning down the silver mould,

Living beside the broken road 

Broken road and the night so cold

mated together 

in the note I wrote .

 

The note I wrote took away the slumber

Ghosting away the night of thunder

filling the body with the ink so bold

Forgetting the times new and old

shook me up and broke my core 

and hence I wrote my suicide note.

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A War Within…

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A war within us,

Baffling, bewildering and barbarous,

Clogging cues of captivating calm,

Digging deeper into dejection,

Extorting the encroached exasperation.

 

Finally forcing  away the frustrating fragments,

Goes away the grieving gloom,

Harnessing on the holistic harmony,

Igniting the illuminating insight,

Judiciously juggling the joyful justice.

 

Keeping up with the kindred kind,

Longing for the leading light,

Manifesting the manoeuvre of majestic mind,

Nourishing the necessary niceties,

Oppressing the obstructive oddity.

 

Passionately placing the perseverance,

Questioning the quiddity,

Reflecting the reformed resilience,

Stating the spontaneous shine,

Titillating the transcendental transformation.

 

Unshaken, unified and unstoppable,

Venerable, virtuous and visionary,

Wholly wielding the whopping warrior,

Xenial xenagogue,

Yearning for the yielding youth,

Zoning the zest of zeal. 

 

Let’s talk about “Him”…

 

In this world of “her”, let’s talk about “him”. This is not about superiority, equality, uniformity or support, this blog is just about understanding “him”. We often think about how he thinks, what he thinks, why he never expresses much, what goes on in his mind? so on and so forth. Females were always stereotyped, since the beginning, they were asked to look after their family, taught to take care of their relationships, made to learn how to express, were protected and cared for (though yes objectification, misuse etc, might be raised but let’s not make it all about that), on the contrary males were asked to play, to get hurt, never let out your pain, bear everything that’s going on around, stay quiet and put in the hard work. Hence, even they were and still are stereotyped.

We whine, rant, cry, talk and express it explicitly but a man thinks, keep it to himself and stay quiet. He doesn’t share which makes us crazy. We feel that he is going away but on the contrary he cannot open up specially when there is a voice continuously forcing him to speak up. “Hey! come on tell me what’s wrong?”, and what goes in his mind- millions of question and no answer. Our rage increases as he grows completely silent and then there is a blast- boom!, they end up fighting. He goes in the den, while we storm outside. He never wanted that, he never wants to go back in time and be the fighting bots they were in the ancient world, but there it goes.

Men are tender from within. They need love, they breakdown, they need care, they need nurturing, they need to be caressed as well. They love differently. They won’t say it out loud that they love you, but their gestures indicate it clearly. He will caress your face while you sleep. He will try to make you laugh when you are upset, he will try to cook for you (in doing so he might get injured but he won’t let you know). He will stay up to talk even if the entire day was a mess, just to bring about that smile on your face. He will sleep covered in sweat just to keep you warm, he will smile for you, even if he is breaking inside. He is a father, he is a brother, he is a boyfriend, he is a friend, he is a strength, he is a support, he is a husband, he is a lover….

He is a man.

Reverberations

 

She looked into the water ,

hoping to see her reflection, but

there it was,

The clock,

lying still on the sea bed.

She tried to avoid,

looking at the heavy clouds,

escaping through the shadows of the mountain,

hiding beneath the sand.

Everything was in vain, when it moved .

Revealing the future, followed by the dynamic past.

 

She saw a burning future and the ashes of the past. She saw the rebirth of the seven sisters- Luxuria, Gula, Avaritia, Acedia, Ira, Invidia and Superbia. Their dance initiated the countdown. She heard the clock ticking,”tick, tock, tick, tock”. She witnessed the death of her brothers and sisters. She knew the time was coming. 

But, she remembered, time work in different parallels and on different tangents. She knew she could stop the sisters from taking away the survivors. Her eyes looked for a way to change the future, to correct the past and create a better present. The problem is it can’t be done alone. The survivors are getting weak day by day, losing their senses, closing their eyes and ignoring the dynamic time, they are conceiving the sisters within them……

The story has many alternative ending, it depends upon you. How you help the survivors and stop the rebirth of those seven sisters, living within us. As it is rightly said:

“The end of all things is near. Therefore be clear minded and self- controlled so that you can pray. Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins”- 1Peter 47-8 Bible

Embosom.

 

Embrace my existence O! noble soul,

as I am a fellow being, not a foe.

We have forgotten the art of embracing a fellow being. A hug can change something within, not only spiritually but biologically. The oxytocin which is released when we hug, helps in relaxing mind and inhibiting the adrenaline rush which leads to fright, fight and flight instincts. Embracing someone does not only symbolise romantic relationship but it helps in establishing respect, friendship, trust and a bond.

 

I am low, hurt and broken deep within,

burdened with the load of my sin.

In your embrace, I will melt,

Unloading my sin, here I knelt,

Touch my back, caress my soul,

as I am a fellow being, not your foe.

As it is rightly said,

“it is said that each time we embrace someone warmly, we gain an extra day of life. “- Paulo Coelho

 

On the Shelf…

 

Become bejewelled believer 

Ostracise objectionable obstruction

Overcome oblivion 

Keeper of Knowledge and Kindness 

Strike the struggles of stillness.

Francis Bacon is considered to be the father of Essays, well his thoughts were bold and provoking. In his essay Of Studies, he talks about how some books are to be tasted, some to be chewed and rest to be digested. What he meant was, some books are just for explicit contentment. They don’t hit our inner conscience or don’t provide insight into any reality. Some books are to be chewed, in a sense that some books are like mirage, it gives you a glimpse of an idea or a thought without having much of validity. Yet, there are few books that are meant to be digested. By digestion, it means that the idea gives birth to a certain kind of thought process which is quintessential for our existence as a human, as a being, as an energy or as nature’s children.

Recently I was introduced into the world of Dystopia by Ray Bradbury through his book called Fahrenheit 451. A world without words, a world without pages, a world without ideas and a world without reason- dark, gloomy, survivable but worthless. The bundle of pages we have as our property might lose its value soon. Most of us read without even realising the hidden idea or the agenda of the  content. Perhaps there aren’t any, but that’s the point where our interpretation and reasoning comes into the scene. I might not be a good interpreter or a logical human but it truly breaks my heart to look around and realise that souls who carry the noble work of teaching, have lost the art of being a medium between an empty slate and a filled chalk box.

Every word printed on those pages are there for a reason. Every book we read becomes our companion. Every page we turn becomes a part of our past. Every period we come across becomes a strand of an idea in our perpetual and dynamic consciousness. Every character we analyse leaves an imprint on our mind- be it Juliet, Montag, Langdon, Dante, Sophie, Cinderella or Pinocchio. As it is rightly said,

“Reading is a conversation. All books talk. But a good book listens as well.”- Mark Haddon

Blank..

Sometimes you need to hide,

the anguish, the fear, the loneliness, the vulnerability.

Sometimes you need to whisper,

into the deaf ears.

Sometimes you need to show,

the blind eyes the shades of blue.

Not everyday is a good or a bad day, some days are for you to remain confused. Some days are simply weird, where you don’t understand what is happening? why it is the way it is? who am I supposed to reach out? Some days are meant to take away the pain and pleasure of our existence. Some days are meant to be blank. Nothing stops but we do. We end up in a void, a gap or a blank space- our thoughts give up on us, people give up on us, we give up on living. Life doesn’t end but that particular day creates a void in our life.

I don’t have a reason to write this blog but the confusion and the blank space forged a stimulus to write so here it is. Some people may relate, some may not, some might find this meaningless, but perhaps the void made all the difference. As it is rightly said (this time it’s gonna be me):

” It’s better to stop and cry than to pretend and die