Weirdly wired

Sometimes all one wants to do is enjoy one's company. Solitude is not a dark, sinister person to hang out with. It is someone who gives comfort, is objective, truthful, understanding and unassuming. To be bare in front of Solitude is rejuvenating. While walking endlessly one feels Solitude, reading a book, though, here the world of the book can be distracting. However, the severance from any outside contact is calming.

Yet, the social obligations weigh on us. To make small talk, feign to show interest in a banal conversation, show concern and exhibit various emotions just so that social beings aren't affronted. Wearing masks all the time can take it's toll.

Maskless-ness is needed.

Despair & Sadness begots Creativity

This post is credited to a fellow-blogger and a dear friend. The words she wrote are still lingering in my head, "Just limitless tracts of lifeless black.... Just eternities of obstinate darkness."

I feel that when we are beaten dead by the life we lead, the people, who perform in our existences and the society, that plays the stage; we release those emotions, the angst, the pain, the beleaguered situations through creative work. Why does it take a death or a drastic event to be creative? I think, we begin to value, what we have the most when we think we are losing it. No one wants to loosen the grip on anything. The moment the grip is lax, control wanes, thus insecurity and it's cousins envelop us. "Just a chimney crammed with old damp wood."

To be creative when one is in a state of abundant joy shouldn't be that difficult, extreme conditions induce great work. Such a fallacy. To break these fallacies, we should try to neutralize situations, Acceptance & Commitment, accept rather than eliminate, embrace the troubles as a core part of personality. Only if we stop fighting the inevitable and have the presence of mind to start making some choices that could eventually pull us out of the bog.

Difficult but with efforts becomes simple.

Random musing

In every relationship, a lot of importance is on the three letter word, some vouch for it to be the 'fulcrum of their relationship, the cornerstone' and for some it remains elusive.

Well, maybe not always, yet it seems that it won't ever happen. So what should these couples do? They should be patient and keep trying, eventually it will happen. When it's meant to be, it will. One really can't change the course that's already been chartered. It does not mean that a relationship between two lovers, who are also each other's closest friends has something amiss. It's just that one can't push for it; because love and understanding and 'lots of relevant adjectives like compatibility etc.' are equally, if not more significant.

Requiem for Life or Death?

The mad rush of the morning and to add to it, the din, made by a group of people, was enough to take his mind on an inward journey. He turned around in his taxi and saw a rally of people shouting, 'Jai Jineshwar'. There was an assortment of expressions in that motley. Some were transfixed at the sight of a dead body, some couldn’t care a dime and were clueless about their presence, few were sad and wore forlorn faces (assuming they were close ones to the one not with them)

Witnessing this, he wondered why all of this was happening, he had never seen so many people and some had never shown up until the day he died. This strange arrangement at his death was a tad unsettling, not death itself. When one is alive, no one says , ‘ let’s go out and enjoy, everyone is caught up in their mundane existence. No one wants to understand, value, respect and take cognizance of their surroundings. But one dies, there is huge pontification, wailing and mourning'.

Life and death are distant cousins, yet so alike. Life always envies Death, says , "like death why can’t I also travel beyond the earth, meet several other bodies, I am so boring stuck in the same rut".

Death minces no words and replies that unlike life, "I have a sad connotation attached to my meaning, if someone I brace they think, oh God he is not with us, he has expired , off ho gaya, he passed away, he demised, all sayings in different, amusing, languages that life was fun and death is boring. I do not like being Death. Wish I was Life."

Life says," you fool there is so much misery being myself. Someone or the other is cheating, everyone is trying to make me you. They are obsessed with you not me. Some are doing it deliberately. They do not want to fight or do anything to help me. They take it easy and become you. And you say you envy me."

The several tones of Tone

Sometimes it is just the tone of a voice that spells out everything about a person.
One could be sad and trying really hard to not let it show; the tone of the voice spills the beans. Unless, one is a born actor and knows how to modulate the pain, agony, anguish, desperation, futility, ecstasy and nothingness.

The inner voice understands the emotions, how can one work on the Inner Voice’s tone. Very difficult to fathom the tone of the Inner Voice, however, the simplicity of the tone of inner voice hits us hard. And there is no running away from that. Acceptance of that sound will sail us through.

The Smell of Summer

Every time I walk through the lanes of Mumbadevi temple in Pydhonie, there is a peculiarly pleasant smell that weaves its way through the dense air of the area.

On a scorching hot summer day, a rock bleeding of heat gets a splash of water on it. There is a sense of great relief and satiation and a smell of freshness, of renewal, of a new breeze of life. Similar reactions stem from the heat afflicted lanes of the crowded, super charged, infused with religious fervor and a calmness associated with deep believers.

As the season progresses, the smell gets distinct and soon will give way to the other enticing smell of the Rains. Till then, let us savour it.

Thoughts, thoughts and thoughts !

They pour, they torment, they provoke, they accuse, they stoke feelings of anger, guilt, hatred, redemption, revenge. They are a cauldron of emotions, sometimes I wish there was not a single thought in my mind.

Mind...another dangerous device. If I were to personify 'mind', it would be a huge, devouring, all knowing, ever conflicting, domineering, bulky Giant. The Giant who has incredible strength and power.

The Giant, however hums

" What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight.
Though nothing can bring back the hour
of splendour in the grass
of glory in the flower
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind" - William Wordsworth

And becomes that speck of grass.

The night I resume..

I have been avoiding to spell my thoughts since sometime now. And tonight, after a lot of deliberation I thought, let's write.

A positive and uplifting Book Read.

Esther David. I had no clue about the identity of this name. I did not even know whether it was a man or a woman, until I looked up the name. And to my amazement, this lady was a literary genius. She began writing at the age of 50. Remarkable.
Trait of hers, that I will always remember, it is never ever too late to begin.

Life passes by and one day it hits us that , "Oh God, what have I done in the past so many years? Have I just dwindled away?".
Some of us, however, don't say that. Esther David, I am sure, has never thought like this. I take inspiration from her.

Well, the whirling sound of the fan in the background could get my goat on any other night however tonight it helps me float away.

To more such nights.